


Working Dogs

by galvanotrope



Category: Naruto
Genre: (could be a nursery), Anbu Hatake Kakashi, BAMF Haruno Sakura, BAMF Hatake Kakashi, Dark, Death, Explicit Murder, Explicit descriptions of explicit things, Gen, Good people doing bad things, Haruno Sakura being capable of growth and competence, Hatake Kakashi-centric, I am not a doctor, Justification of those bad things, Konoha is an on fire garbage can, Panic Attacks, Passive Suicidality, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Realistic, Recovery, Slow Burn, This is not medical advice, Trauma, Worldbuilding, explicit dismemberment, non-conventional morality, or at least, unverifiable economic speculation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25754995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galvanotrope/pseuds/galvanotrope
Summary: Hatake Kakashi doesn't want a genin team. ANBU Hound can protect the village well enough, andhedidn't have to deal with things like emotions.Kakashi already had plenty of things keep his mind off his numerous failures. Like S- rank missions, or A-rank missions, or occasionally socializing with an algorithmically selected friend group whenever the Psych department started to question his fitness for the field, or even a B-rank mission when he wanted to relax.Things are fine - could a depressed person spend 70% of their time reading jutsu theory and refining their abilities, trying to fill their never-ending loneliness with studying and rationality?(Yes.)Hiruzen gives him a team anyway. Fuck.OrHow I’d write Naruto given that the Elemental Nations are all authoritarian military dictatorships, trauma is real, and Kakashi’s only coping skill is being better than everybody else. Ft. A Frankly Excessive Amount of Worldbuilding.
Relationships: Dai-nana-han | Team 7 & Hatake Kakashi, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 138
Kudos: 426





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will be squishing the timeline because I have no frame of reference to write a 28-year-old, so I will just be making Kakashi...not 28.  
> That is my solution.  
> How old is Kakashi? Honestly dunno, maybe 23? 24?

The Sandaime’s eyes were dark and calculating, half hidden in smoke of his pipe. His office was sealed tight - windows closed, seal barriers in place - and the smoke was thick in the confined space.

He was wearing 3 layers of masks, but ANBU Hound could still smell it. It was unsettling, leaving him practically nose-blind. Like he was caught in a fog, back unprotected, eyes to the ground, hands absent of a weapon. Unguarded, _unsafe,_ for all that the Hokage’s office was meant to be the best guarded place in the village.

Not that Hound could have been settled, not with adrenaline still rushing through him. It left him twitchy, even with the reassurance of full body-storage scrolls lining his hip - he could swear they felt _warm;_ _warm like fresh-spilled blood, warm like hot breath against him, warm like sparking blades_. His head uncomfortably foggy from blood-loss, limbs cold. Little spasms running through his injured leg as he knelt, beyond his control and infuriating for it.

A cold, disembodied voice had given his initial report already. ~~It sounded like Tou-san had at the end. Empty, empty, empty.~~ The Hokage listened blankly, cross referencing a corresponding scroll of mission notes. He’d set it aside minutes ago and now just sat, watching Hound and sucking on his pipe.

“We have our new Academy graduating class,” said the Sandaime, as if it weren’t a threat.

The man tapped out his pipe ashes and packed it again. “To be selected as a sensei is a symbol of trust and respect from the village. Most jōnin see it as a rite of passage, they jump at the chance.” A spark of Katon, the smell of tobacco grew stronger. “Jōnin Hatake Kakashi has rejected 5 teams.”

Hound said nothing, it hadn’t been a question. The room was quiet again. There was just the shifting of the Hokage’s robes, the tap of his pipe on the desk. 

It was designed to make him nervous, but he wouldn’t let it. It may be galling, infuriating, to be reprimanded like this - even his greatest shames were technically perfect, beyond reproach from the village even if individuals condemned him - but he pushed away the rising bubble of _annoyance-guilt-longing_ in his stomach. Focused on even breaths, on not reacting.

“One of those failed students began ANBU training last month. Your thoughts of him?”

“Trainee Sheep. 15. Scouted as a field medic. Kenjutsu specialty, incorporates secondary-class genjutsu. Below average jutsu repertoire in variety and rank. Konoha standard taijutsu.”

“Your personal opinion, then.”

What was the point of this? A shame tactic? Hound carefully relaxed his jaw. “His specialties are contradictory and sub-optimal. He’s better at iryō-ninjutsu but cares so little for it he’ll never be a med-nin; he works hard at kenjutsu but doesn’t adapt quickly beyond his katas. Given average mission load he’ll need reconditioning within 6 months, either for insubordination or desensitization, but will continue to operate within acceptable parameters. Assuming no critical failures, he’ll remain active for 3-7 years.”

“His files note him as remarkably receptive to conditioning.” The Hokage countered, tone more curious than anything else.

“That’s correct, Hokage-sama.” A pause. Then a sigh.

“Would you trust him?”

“I believe Trainee Sheep will perform competently,” A pipe waved in Hound’s direction seemed to say _that’s not an answer._ “I would not seek him out for assistance, no.”

The Hokage took a deep huff of his pipe. “His instructors gave him a fair bit more credit than you do, it seems. He’s very well liked.” That didn’t surprise Hound, Sheep was a very likable guy. He was complimentary and quiet, easy to be around. “I wonder what it is you see in people.”

Too much, Hound thought. He saw too much.

Where others saw friends and teammates for who they were now, Hound tended to see them as the mistakes they would become. Walking ghosts. A teammate that hadn’t gone rouge quite yet, a sparring partner who dodged too carelessly to have a long shelf-life. He sounded out every new name, wondering how it would look carved on the memorial stone. The sharingan made it worse, catching every flash of emotion, every hidden exchange. It was sort of funny how he was so isolated from people - given he knew them so intimately.

Sheep was unobtrusive and worked hard, but he idolized ANBU – even if not consciously. Held his porcelain mask proudly, traced where he might paint his markings along its face, and eyed S-class missions greedily. He treated wounds like failures - the kind of medic who would heal your cuts but blame you for not moving faster, the kind of swordsman who soaked his hands in milk to lighten the scars. Like missions were a game, like ninja were concepts instead of people. With that mindset, a 15-year-old boy entering ANBU would adopt those expectations onto himself. Sheep was half child, half fantasy – a persona that wouldn’t survive its first innocent kill, first time protecting an abuser from their own mistakes, first teammate dying in his arms because his shaking arms misfired an iryō-ninjutsu.

Hound knew this would come to pass. Hound knew this as surely as he knew Minato had loved Kushina, surely as he knew he had failed Obito, surely as he knew he barely stomached his days alive anymore.

Although Hound could see the Hokage from behind his mask, the Hokage could not see him. Or even without the mask, if the Hokage saw him as he usually did, would he see anything more than he did now? By nature or by habit, Hound was never laid bare, and it was lonely.

Hokage-sama reached across his desk, pulling from some drawer a thin scroll. “I think, then,” he said, every inch a disappointed grandfather, “that it is clear Kakashi-san will never agree to take on a team. And yet -” He studied the scroll with a sort of resignation, distaste perhaps, and then held it out.

Hound rose to take it, ignoring his injuries in favor of an anticipatory sort of dread crawling up his spine.

“Yet, I am still your Hokage.” The Sandaime said, a wry sort of grimace twisting around his pipe. “So, _Operative Hound_ , I’m giving you a long-term mission of the greatest importance. Part espionage, part protection detail, and technically, infiltration.”

The old man seemed intent on his dramatics, so Hound turned the scroll in his hands, opening it with carefully telegraphed movements. The Hokage made no move to stop him. _Mission objective: Asset maintenance and military integration._

AKA: be genin sensei to a couple of flight risks.

“It’s come to this, then.” He said, detached still, but feeling particularly hollow. The Sandaime inclined his head a fraction as Hound read through the rest of the scroll. “The rest?” He was being rude, but it was justified.

The Sandaime pulled out a stack of files half a foot high. He pushed it forward, but his weathered hand lingered on top, deceptively light. Hound reluctantly removed his mask, placing it with a delicate _clink_ on the desk, and the hand withdrew. Kakashi took the first file off the top.

His sharingan was unavoidably active, so he flipped through the pages quickly. Pages outlining how he was to manipulate children, pages outlining under what conditions he was to _neutralize the threats._ The names were familiar, Itachi’s brother, Minato’s son – precious people of his precious people, Konoha citizens, reduced to targets. How the world crumbled under his feet.

His pushed away that line of thought. “Direction on Haruno Sakura?”

The Sandaime raised an eyebrow, perhaps considering Kakashi’s starting point counter-intuitive, but the scroll had been particularly explicit in most parts and Kakashi needed to know where he could conserve his humanity. “She’s secondary. The best available option, as it were.”

The dismissal of an entire person might have felt distasteful if he let himself dwell on it, so he didn’t. Instead, Kakashi picked up another file. From the middle this time, after a few brief flicks through the different files said he didn’t quite approve of whatever organizational system the Hokage thought he had going for him.

“Who did the personality briefs?”

“The standard academy teachers. Saito Fumika for kunoichi lessons with Sakura. The rest were mostly Umino Iruka.”

Kakashi hummed in something like recognition, but it was a dry sound. “How accurate?” he asked, then paused, tilted his head back a bit to think. “Ma, stupid question. Can’t imagine the Hokage knows individual genin enough to say.” He trailed off, recalibrating the thought.

“You can corroborate however you wish, but Umino-san did surveillance before teaching,” the Sandaime offered. Kakashi considered one of his pages, unimpressed.

“Still, class size is what, 25?” No correction came, and Kakashi let a hand rake through his sweat-plastered hair. The Hokage gave another puff of his pipe, maybe to ward off the smell of mission-grime now that Kakashi was so close. “How long ‘till squad assignments.”

“I suppose,” the Sandaime dragged out, “tomorrow?” The third file he’d picked up sparked lightly in Kakashi’s hands, crumpling the paper, but neither commented. “Room 200, noon.”

“That’s not a lot of time.”

The Hokage shrugged, looking far too unconcerned. “I expected you back yesterday.” Satisfaction sparked darkly in his stomach. His completion-window had been a week long and only started the day before, so Hound was well within reason to return today - even with interference as it was.

The expectation of his own excellence was…bittersweet. The pleasure of it wholly insufficient to appease him – like rationed water in Suna, leaving his mouth all the drier with each sip – sweet though it was. This ache was a familiar one, and Kakashi pushed it down as he did with other unactionable things.

“This,” Kakashi tapped the first scroll, sitting now next his growing pile of reorganized files, “didn’t mention a requisitions limit.” He was fatiguing fast, fingers locking up as he turned pages, but he’d always been one to push his advantage and, really, the Hokage would be far less favorable to him after Kakashi had time to process his options.

“It’s just a genin team.”

The old man’s liver-spots were particularly visible, Kakashi noticed, when he pinched the bridge of his nose like that. “Ma, Hokage-sama, this scroll says it’s an S-rank mission.” The false cheer didn’t even make it to his voice, but the sentiment remained (as best as Kakashi could hope for).

The Sandaime reached for his brush, he gave a long-suffering sigh. “You’ll have a third-rank authorization and the village will reimburse reasonable expenses, but this is hardly how I thought this conversation would go,” Several smooth brushstrokes and a bright red stamp later, Sarutobi hesitated in handing over the paper. He studied the other nin harshly. “You’re not going to fight this harder, Kakashi?”

Sharingan tomoe dilated and Kakashi set down his last file. His hand braced against the table, against his mask. “You called for the dog, Hokage-sama, not the man. I don’t have the luxury.” 

They’d had eyes on each other for a while now, but there was something darker, meaner, in Kakashi’s eye then. Sarutobi didn’t flinch or falter, it wasn’t even a close thing, but that look had him conscious of the growing softness in his limbs and the dulling blur of his eyesight. It didn’t last long, Kakashi too worn from the day’s excitement, and soon his sharingan slid closed. Kakashi just looked tired then.

“Hokage-sama’s orders are quite comprehensive, regardless. I have a minimum of 42 instructional hours per week where I’m to – ah, how’d it go?” Kakashi affected a put-upon tone, but didn’t even glance towards the now-closed and hidden files he’d first seen only seconds ago, “ _engage targets physically and mentally with intent to and effects of improving proficiency in standardized fields of shinobi art, proficiency defined both as relative to a hypothetical mission-completion rate where conditions reflect appropriate progressive difficulty and as would be recognizable and satisfactory to third party experts. Instruction is not to withhold or obfuscate information which would better acclimate targets to the highest of shinobi standards and anticipate, to the best of the instructor’s ability, the targets’ emotional and educational needs –_ it goes on like that for 8 more pages, Sandaime-sama. Your new desk jockey really thinks I’m a pig.”

The Sandaime huffed amusedly and pulled together the papers now across his desk. “We’ll see how long it holds, I suppose.” Kakashi took the hint, reaching for one of his more benign scrolls and sealing up the precarious stack. “Dismissed.”

* * *

ANBU operated as a mostly closed system, it took missions directly from the village and details were as-needed only, so naturally it was all for vertical integration.

Standard missions debriefed and were over, ANBU missions had at least a week of follow ups. It was exhausting, but at least it meant the paperwork could wait a few days. Mission drop was hitting him hard, leaving him too on edge to properly process...everything.

Kakashi slid though a disguised gap behind the general-access record room and down into a little enclave of offices hidden there. He dropped a duplicate of his mission notes at the ANBU Commander’s office and went searching for an Operative Frog.

He found them in the break room next to a coffee pot and a half-finished sudoku - boring shift, evidently. They turned when Hound entered, head pivoting with the blatant once-over they gave him. Their hands flicked roughly through ANBU sign. _Permission, Treatment?_ Hound gave a nod and pulled up a stool.

Frog’s hands glowed green and diligently began to prod at his hurts, stitching together muscles and sealing over skin. Hound found himself relaxing minutely as Frog sunk chakra deep to his marrow, supplementing blood production. He had a wall at his back, clear line of sight to the only entrance, and it was quiet enough he could hear the quiet shuffling of the tunnel’s other occupants – safe, for now.

Nerves in his arms and fingers still sparked erratically, muscles ached, when Frog pulled off and signed _Remainder, Hospital._

 _Negative._ Hound signed back.

Frog hesitated, but insisted. _Hospital._

 _You, Recent._ Frog recoiled a fraction, surprised. Kakashi telegraphed a half-laugh kind of huff. _Treatment,_ he signed, and propped his arm expectantly on the table.

While ‘officially’ mission injuries should be routed to Konoha’s General Hospital _,_ realistically that was an all-around bad idea. With so few competent medics, getting treated at the hospital was always sub-optimal - the sheer number of patients meant any non-essential treatments were delayed or written-off, the constant stimuli meant it was near impossible to rest or sleep, and the various clearance levels of patient and staff left village secrets constantly exposed. For shinobi in deep cover, practicing forbidden jutsu, or whose very injuries were classified, this just didn’t cut it.

Instead of overhauling the system into something even more complicated and exploitable, ANBU initiated Operative Frog. A bit of a misnomer, the bright-green mask and code-name wasn’t a single person, a few “Operative Frogs” operate around Konoha. They weren’t fully ANBU - the iryō-nin creed prevented full-time medics from placing themselves in dangerous positions and ANBU missions couldn’t support non-combat personnel - but Frog was given clearance to hang around common offices and training grounds, was paid to treat whoever sought them out, and only had to endure the less horrific secrecy measures ANBU usually entailed.

This ensured the rest of ANBU operatives had access to more than field-healing but kept medics safe and away from the more classified information. In some ways it was a reward for the medic too – major surgeries, long term care, and other treatments which would break cover still routed through the hospital, so Operative Frog had relatively light duty most days, no paperwork, and no obligation to force an unwilling patient.

So, despite their hesitation, Frog didn’t seem to mind healing Hound. After his major damage, Frog ended up soothing the inflammation in Hound’s knuckles from rapid hand seals, massaged out his calf-cramp, and did something _wonderful_ to his chest which eased his breathing. Frog pulled back again; hands green and open in front of them as if to say _what else?_

Yeah, Kakashi was too spoiled for the hospital, now.

 _E-y-e-s-t-r-a-i-n,_ he spelled out - repeating it slower when Frog seemed unfamiliar with the symbols and tapping over where mask covered his sharingan. They huffed a bit, perhaps thinking the request frivolous, but after a brief pass with Mystical Palm they clocked the strain as serious enough to stand and crowd his space – tugging their gloves off for that extra bit of dexterity and forcefully manhandling Kakashi’s face this way and that. Hound resigned himself to it.

He hated the contact, even a medic’s touch was unfamiliar and confusingly intimate, but Kakashi hated all sorts of things and they’d never let them matter before.

You couldn’t rely on a chipped kunai, you certainly wouldn’t hand one to a teammate and expect them to survive their missions with it, so Kakashi maintained himself as he would maintain a blade. It wouldn’t let his selfishness interfere again; he’d shield his village; he’d shield his teammates.

He’d shield Minato’s son.

The thought came unbidden, and he tried to believe it. He wasn’t sure he could. Images of _them_ suddenly overlapping faces of mask-less ANBU drawing their final breaths, of young genin teams who thought fights were games, of unnamed bodies lying abandoned deep in no-mans-land and floating by on the river.

Terror _,_ a feeling like molasses in his throat, like his chest being pumped full of laughing gas, like his bones were electrified. He stopped Frog’s fingers, grip so tight it must have hurt, and mechanically lunged towards the lounge’s kitchenette.

Pulled the tap on, cold. Jerked open the freezer door, grabbing the tub of ice inside. His fingers shook, scattering ice-cubes. Water filled the gaps in the ice, cracking, ( ~~almost like the chirps of his hand in Rin’s chest~~ ). He sat, the water sloshing, and Kakashi dunked his head into ice. It was very cold.

The sharingan brought back Psych’s instructions with perfect clarity even as he clenched his eyes shut. _1, 2, 3, 4, 5._ _Relax your eyes. Shoulders next. There you go_ _._

The water seeped behind his mask, but the heat stayed trapped within it so Kakashi unstuck his mask once again and let the ice meet his face more closely. Frog had obviously startled at his movements and turned to watch Kakashi. He hated it. Wished they would at least pretend they weren’t seeing this.

Seeing S-rank, ANBU Captain Kakashi Hatake shaking on the floor, head in a bucket of ice, having a panic attack.

He could pretend ANBU gave him anonymity - his face was still covered by the white plastic of the ice bin - but Frog had already seen his eye and hair. Even without, they’d see each other on rotation again. He’d never been good at social things, and ANBU was primarily non-verbal so that added an entirely other set of anxieties, and maybe Frog wouldn’t be in the barracks, but some Operatives gossiped in the breakrooms, and they whispered where the commander couldn’t hear them and what’s to say Frog would resist the allure of camaraderie when it came so easily.

Frog set a juice a half-foot from Kakashi. He could just see it from the curve of the bucket. A stool scraped the ground, legs dragging loudly as it they turned. (Stools weren’t even directioned, so the move was painfully obvious, but his pride was already trashed so he’d take it.)

The anxious thoughts still pressed incessantly against his mind, but his hands were warm and shaky and _that was bad imagery, don’t think about when else they tended to feel like that ~~(chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp,~~_ _~~chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp),~~_ and maybe it’d be nice to hold something – it might help him remember to _stop molding lightning chakra through his palms._ So Kakashi grabbed the juice. Tried to grab the juice. Knocked the juice over, really. He caught it before it fell, so Frog hadn’t heard. Probably. ( ** ~~Chirp?~~** ) He really hoped Frog hadn’t heard.

He didn’t think Frog heard. Frogs didn’t even have ear structures, they just had ear holes. Frogs didn’t seem like they could hear well. Ear structures were very important, since they amplified sound, and frogs didn’t have them, so they didn’t amplify sound like ~~MinatoRinObito~~ people did. In fact, Kakashi had lots of equations about it, lots of equations about acoustics. Acoustic equations.

No, wait. Those weren’t... congruent? No. Shapes aren’t even equations, that’s not logically progressive. Not progressing logically. It didn’t fit.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Relax your eyes. Shoulders next. There you go. Focus on what you know, what you’re feeling._

Not acoustic equations. Equations, in his book about acoustics. Equations in his book about acoustics could help him understand frogs. He needed to understand frog ears.

No. He needed to understand ears to understand frogs, it was different. Why? _Why was it different, Kakashi?_ One emphasized the ears, the other emphasized the frog. He needed the frog.

He didn’t see any frogs. That was weird. Why was he thinking about frogs? _Birds?_ Frogs.

Operative Frog could hear him.

No he couldn’t. ~~Frogs don’t have ear structures~~. Operative Frog couldn’t hear him because Kakashi hadn’t said anything. Kakashi could hear something though, like a crackle _~~(chirp?) Stop molding lightning Kakashi.~~_

He couldn’t feel his arm. ~~What kind of bird had such a deep voice?~~ He lifted his head a bit, but something cold bumped his nose.

Was his head in a bucket? Kakashi looked at his arm. He’d stopped running chakra through his arm. It was just cradled against his leg; he should turn that back on. He did. He turned it on. There it was again, the start of a crackling. Not a bird, though. He looked at his arm, at his hand.

It was plastic, the crackle-pop of plastic. Juice.

He was holding a bottle of juice. That was okay. He was Hatake Kakashi and he’d just had a _very_ bad day – but he was okay, and he was about to have some juice. Other people weren’t okay, but he was. The ice-bucket was mostly water now, it sloshed as he pulled himself up. He poured it out into the sink, collecting the last bits of ice as it went.

He popped open his juice, it was faintly warm now and smelt of ozone but Kakashi slid his ice fragments in anyways and drank the bottle.

It tasted warm regardless. He probably should have forgone the ice - it settled weirdly in his stomach. He opened the fridge and downed another bottle just to rid himself of the feeling. He kept a light hand, so the bottle didn’t crackle.

Then Kakashi wicked himself dry with a Suiton and replaced his mask. He sat back down with Operative Frog, who was working on their sudoku. Frog didn’t look at him.

Kakashi wasn’t sure if he liked that or not, but he wasn’t sure of more things than he was sure of at the moment and therefore had decided to not feel anything until he could feel things again.

It was complicated. And not medically recommended. Or maybe it was? He was never sure on that point. _We can’t control our emotions, Kakashi. We can only control our reactions to them._

Frog seemed stuck on their sudoku. Or they were waiting on Hound. Either way, they could fill in most of their 3s. Frog moved their pen to scratch in a 7, completing a row, and turned to Hound.

Kakashi’s eye flicked down to their far hand, the newly reddened fingers there.

 _Status?_ Frog signed. Their hands didn’t shake. Kakashi was surprised his didn’t either, or maybe that was supposed to be normal.

The ANBU didn’t have a sign for flashbacks, nor for pain, or grief, or anything close to what Kakashi had just experienced. Hound settled for _Head, Yin, Carnage._

_Self, Hand, Head, Carnage?_

It took Kakashi a few seconds, Frog wiggling their fingers hesitantly at his face, and a nervous shuffling of the young operative’s feet, but Kakashi shook his head. _Negative._ He signed back.

They seemed relieved, pressing a hand against their chest and collapsing in their shoulders dramatically. _Treatment?_

Kakashi extended his arm again.

His sharingan eye kept a painful catalog of Frog’s flinches, the tenderness in their fingers. When they leaned in again to finish healing his eye, Kakashi turned his head just so – catching Frog’s scent and peeking under the mask.

Kakashi vanished soon after and Operative Frog returned to their sudoku.

* * *

Kakashi regretted it later, breaking that line of professional courtesy with Operative Frog. He had seen too much and he couldn't take it back. 

He wrote down everything he remembered anyway, cataloging his indiscretion in a little coded book he’d pulled from the watertight bag in his toilet’s reservoir. He numbered and dated the page, noted facial features, scent notes, physical ticks, sudoku playstyle, brand of gear – everything remotely relevant, and then he switched ink wells.

This was only his medium grade sealing ink, but he blended it carefully – like its craft was meditation, or prayer.

Sometimes it felt like both. Sometimes it felt like desecration. Today it felt like nothing. He drew the seal as it was on every other page, the way Minato had drawn it when he first showed Kakashi, a haphazard squiggle along its last quadrant where Obito had bumped into their sensei’s brush.

Once it dried he placed two bits of folded textile on top, one crepe paper and one raw silk, and checked his calculations against the master-tables he’d long since memorized and burned.

Closest scent approximation at 6% oxidation – within usable parameters for either sample, now or within 4 hours of being unsealed. .7% of the formulation suggested non-native origins. 30% of the formulation overlapped with Root’s profile. Variance and intensity of notes suggested they were organically acquired, not deliberately placed. He noted the threat level along the page corner, marked with a colored tab, and penned the page number into his index. 

Hound sealed it all away, into the book, into the bag, into the underside of a metal pipe. He washed his hands, cleaned his desk, sorted his mission scrolls by priority and type, did the laundry, swept his floors, watered his plants, took a shower. Like nothing ever changed.

His apartment was clean and compartmentalized, as he often reassured his therapist. Sturdy walls, more space than he needed. The master bedroom and en suite bath were tucked out of view at the end of the hallway, he hardly contemplated what lay through that doorway until he crossed it. He didn’t need to. 

Hound had a small washing machine in the en suite. Kakashi took his laundry to the 24-hour Wash-O-Rama down the road. Hound’s desk had mission reports and experimental ninjutsu. Kakashi’s had his sensei’s old Fūinjutsu scrolls and the latest Icha-Icha. Hound had an impressive library, textbooks on anatomy, psychology, neurochemistry, physics. Kakashi had a highlighted socialization schedule, a notebook full of other jōnin’s life events, and a bunch of suggested conversation starters written on Psych Division letterhead.

This 'mission' had those lines blurring, now. Where did he sit? Was he to be the Hound or Kakashi? 

Maybe neither. He knew they weren’t as separate as he pretended, he couldn’t detach himself from ANBU techniques or training. Jutsu were jutsu no matter the mission, his reflexes were the same whether he favored kunai or a tanto, but this lack of separation was...uncomfortable. Both personas were constructed, he didn’t know if there was a middle ground between them.

The second bedroom, Kakashi's bedroom, seemed foreign after all his time away, but his jōnin blacks still hung in the closet so Kakashi put them on just the same. Taped down the cloth edges, zipped the flak jacket, pulled on the gloves, tightened the hitai-ate.

He stretched, feeling the unfamiliar pull of the fabric-covered flak. It added some weight, but more so it added bulk. He tapped the pockets on chest he never bothered to fill. What did people put in those?

14 hours until mission start. He should get at least 3 hours of sleep, initial reorientation to village systems would take 2 hours, verifying mission intel would be variable. Acquiring food would also be important. He cast a longing gaze at his fishing rod, but he had no time and would require something more substantial besides. Maybe a drink.

Yeah, he could use a drink.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Seven meet Kakashi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has 3 different PoVs, all limited 3rd person or whatever it's called. I'm not a creative writing major.  
> Keep in mind none of the kids are supposed to be reliable narrators, and Sasuke's going to be an annoying little shit.  
> I keep wanting to write, like, a 10,000 word chapter but I'm too impatient, whoop.

“Aburame Shino, Hyuuga Hinata, and Inuzuka Kiba?” A beautiful kunoichi called out to the class. 

Sakura sighed, what she would give for a Sensei like that. Bad-ass, beautiful, confident. The woman carried herself with an easy grace – the composure of a shinobi. She was wasted on an unambitious nothing like _Hyuuga_ _Hinata._

Sakura worked so much harder than the quiet girl, she proved herself constantly. She might not have been trained at ikebana for years like Ino, but she made up for it in the general classes – she wrote three whole extra pages on the graduation exam. She bet Hinata didn’t do that, she bet even Ino didn’t do that. It was _Sakura_ that deserved the pretty kunoichi instructor, shannarō! 

No, she had to be patient. Sakura did the best of the kunoichi, she knew that. She just had to believe her sensei would be the best too. (She had Sasuke on her team, they would have to give him an awesome sensei at least. He was important – all the academy instructors said so.) 

Just a few years from now she’d walk back into the Academy and Iruka-sensei would gape because little Haruno Sakura had made it. She’d be tall, and amazing, and little girls would twist to look up at her while she passed, and all the people who made fun of her would beg for forgiveness but Sakura _wouldn’t even care._ She’d have better things to worry about, and even Ino would be looking at her back in jealousy. 

She fiddled with her headband, watching the jōnin kunoichi usher her team out the door. The woman had worn her own headband on her forehead, Konoha standard. It hadn’t looked bad. 

Sakura’s was having problems staying up, she’d tied it properly with a double knot but the fabric kept slipping loose along the curve of her head. Should she change it? It would be embarrassing if it slipped off on mission, but she’d seem indecisive if she changed it now. The thought of covering up her forehead again felt like admitting defeat anyway. 

Another jōnin slid open the class door, a man with cropped black hair and the funny green vest so many ninja seemed to wear. He was on the shorter side, muscled, and carried a huge sword on his back. 

Sinking a little deeper into her chair, Sakura held her breath while he called out, “Looking for Abe Kaori, Kawakami Joji, and Ueno Haya.” 

She let out a soft exhale. Good. Swords were cool but she had to be realistic; sensei could only teach what they knew and she wouldn’t do well charging in to close combat. That, and she didn't want big biceps. She was still holding out for a kunoichi anyway. 

There was a large clatter somewhere down the hallway. Sakura strained her ears to try and pick up any details. It was a mix of voices, at least two, moving along the hallways a floor below. The building distorted whatever the people were saying, but the voices were light and high. No timber, no growl – not likely a man. 

Sakura straightened in her seat, she could see a few of the others perk up too. There were only three teams left now. Ino shot her a narrow-eyed look from the bench over, this was sure to be one of their sensei and they were already making an impression. 

**“Dynamic Entry!”** A figure crashed through the door midair, splintering it and landing in the room with a flip. 

The first thing Sakura noticed was how was how small the ninja was – less than half the size of the jōnin swordsman that had left only a half-minute ago and only as tall as any of the graduating class. 

He was young, Sakura realized once he’d stopped spinning, and... odd. Green suit, heavily stylized bowl cut, loud, and _those eyebrows._

“My most youthful comrades!” the boy was yelling. Was he from another class and just disastrously late to orientation? “It is an honor to again walk this academy and contemplate my path as a shinobi! The sentiments stirred within me will stoke my training, my determination -” 

“Lee!” Interrupted another voice, and from the broken door two kunoichi barreled into the room. Neither were particularly cute, Sakura noticed – one in unflattering shorts and a camel jacket, the other in plain twin buns and a garish pink and red top. “Don’t run off first, geez. We’re here for a reason,” huffed the latter, bracing herself on her knees. 

Long hair and jacket girl bowed stiffly to Iruka-sensei, “We did not mean to disturb your class.” Her voice was deep, and strangely hypnotic. 

The boy in the jumpsuit struck a pose, “Yosh! We are here to escort Team 7!” 

Which poor bastards were those, again? Sakura gulped, looking to Iruka-sensei to please call out some other kids’ names – but he looked down at his paper, then up to Sasuke, then her, then Naruto. No way! She had the worst luck. 

“You’re not jōnin,” said Sasuke. He was in the third row back, but he didn’t have to even raise his voice for it to reach the floor. The sound just carried, like the universe did what he wanted it to. (So. Cool!) 

The one with twin-buns scratched her head, “Well, no. Does your sensei have to sign you out or something? I don’t remember that happening last year.” 

Iruka looked consideringly at the group. “There’s no rule, I suppose. It’s just strange.” 

“Alright then, Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, and Uzumaki Naruto – follow us!” 

“Huh? Why? We’re waiting for our sensei,” called Naruto dumbly. 

How did she get stuck with this idiot? Really, no attention span, no sense, no tact. Sakura rose, ignoring Ino’s snicker, and stiffly walked down to the three weird nin waiting for them. Composure, she had to maintain composure. She was a graceful kunoichi, and she would make Ino see nothing phased her. Even Naruto levels of humiliation. 

Sasuke jumped down too, but Naruo was still confused and yelling. Sasuke tsked at the hold-up. “They’re probably taking us to them, dumbass.” 

“Why do we gotta go somewhere else? Shouldn’t they come here? That makes no sense.” 

Of course it didn’t, but yelling about it wouldn’t change anything. Couldn’t he pick up basic cues? They had to meet their sensei. Their sensei wasn’t here. Therefore, they had to go find their sensei. Naruto was such a bad ninja; they’d have to explain all the missions to him like a toddler, and he wouldn’t pick up on subtlety so they wouldn’t be able to take any good missions anyway. Nobody would let them go to the capitol or guard the Daimyo now. It was just, urgh. Such a bad impression. 

The second girl in the khaki jacket seemed to agree, her cold face twitching before she spoke. “We will explain on the way.” Then she turned and left. Straight. Up. Left. 

“What’s her problem?” Sakura muttered. 

Naruto came down from the seats, at least pretending to finally get it, and they all started off to follow the group’s prickly teammate. 

“Right! I m Rock Lee, it is good to meet you!” Started off the green boy as he led them towards the stairs, Sakura gave him a generous nod. 

“Haruno Sakura, pleasure to meet you.” He was weird beyond all belief, (those brows were worse up close,) but she could be polite. 

“Oh, I’m Tenten. And that was Neji – sorry about him, he doesn’t like courier missions. Thinks they’re a waste of skill.” 

Huh? _Him_? ‘Neji’ had longer hair than her! Sakura flushed a bit as Sasuke muttered his name and Naruto slid down the handrail with a whoop. 

“I’m Uzumaki Naruto! Hey, hey, where are we going and what are we doing? Is it a super cool mission?” 

Tenten frowned at Naruto, who was jumping around like an idiot as always. “You’re barely out of the academy. You won’t be going on missions for a while. We’re going to the 12th training ground.” 

Naruto’s yell of outrage rang in Sakura’s ears, loud and hurting. 

“Ano, Tenten-san,” Sakura mentioned pleasantly, focusing on the obvious diplomat of the team and giving her a good ‘can you believe this guy’ look, “do you know what we’ll be doing then? Or why you guys are picking us up? You can’t be that much older than us.” 

They had caught up to Neji now, who ended up waiting by a tree in the academy yard, just scowling. He looked kind of familiar when Sakura got a good angle. Kind of like Sasuke, too, but the long hair made him more pretty than cool. 

Lee answered first, enthusiastic, “Our sensei are Eternal Rivals! Comrades locked together by the youthful fires of competition, always pushing each other to do their best!” 

“They’re friends, I think,” Tenten translated, “Gai-sensei took us on last year, and Hatake-san is testing you guys, so they decided to have a demonstration spar to show what experienced shinobi are like. But Hatake-san came early and Gai-sensei challenged him to some sort of competition, so we got sent to pick you up.” 

Oh, that made sense. Sort-of, enough. Sakura let go of the worries she hadn’t realized she’d been nursing, like what if their sensei already had another team, or something. A demonstration spar actually sounded cool; they never did those at the academy. The instructors there were all chūnin anyway, and while they were pretty impressive, jōnin were the super elite. 

Sakura adjusted her headband again to stop it from slipping, thinking back to all the different jōnin they saw earlier. “Can you tell us anything about our sensei?” 

Tenten shrugged. “Um, we don’t actually know him.” 

“He hasn’t been active duty for a while” Neji said, paused entirely and looking back at them with his strange, white eyes. There was something heavy in the way he said it, like it was a message or a test. Sasuke must have felt it too, but he was of course smarter than her, and he probably knew what it meant. 

Naruto clearly didn’t. “Eh?!” He stomped at the ground. “How are we going to be the best team ever, if our sensei isn’t even a real ninja?” Neji’s lip twitched derisively and he flipped back around, saying nothing more and blowing their chance at whatever _that_ was. 

And it was Naruto’s fault again, the orange little menace. Just marching along text to her, completely obtuse. He was just, so, so, “ _Narutooooo_ _!_ ” She couldn’t help it; she was so angry the yell slipped out and she just swung – clocking the village idiot right in the jaw. 

Shit. Composure, Sakura. She turned quick back to Tenten, hoping she hadn’t screwed her intel source, but luckily Sasuke was on it. 

“You said this...Hatake was testing us, not that he was our sensei. Why?” 

Sasuke-kun was always so smart! She knew that phrase had sounded weird, but she would never have been able to point out why. Sasuke knew though. Just like you’d expect from him! 

Tenten looked impressed too, if a little embarrassed. (She had to be into him. Who wouldn’t be, a reliable guy like that. Sakura would just have to show she’s the cuter kunoichi. Love conquers all!) “I suppose it’s not a secret, but I think it’s normally a surprise. It’s... you’re not full genin yet.” 

Naruto was still recovering so he couldn’t do much more than mumble, but for once his inevitable yelling was probably justified. _Not_ _genin_ _yet?_ What, like all her studying for the exam meant nothing? Her hands had bled all over the place. 

“Your sensei can send you back if they’re not confident in you,” Tenten continued to explain, “Nothing so drastic as taking your headband back, but you get sent back to the academy for a remedial year and wouldn’t be able to take missions until you convinced someone to take responsibility for you. The test is said to vary, so we can’t help if you were going to ask.” How frustrating. Sasuke must have been thinking the same, because his jaw tightened just that much more. 

They were walking through one of the forests now, on more of a dirt path than a real trail. Field 12 was surely close; she could just barely hear the thunk of shuriken. 

“That’s not just jump-ropes,” said Tenten with a groan, “I wanted to see first contact!” 

Neji hummed agreeably, but it turned into a sneer and a glare when Lee gave a great holler and made off running. “Look, third-rates,” he called back to her and Sasuke, “when we get to the clearing, keep out of the way and stay easily visible. Sensei will not aim at you, but if something comes flying – dodge.” And then Neji was running too, Tenten close behind. They were _fast_ , Sasuke followed almost immediately but even he was still lagging behind. 

Then Naruto went. Sakura shook herself out of her stupor and made after them. 

* * *

Sasuke slid to a stop next to the strange trio of older genin. His own useless team was somewhere back in the dust, but that didn’t matter now. He looked around at the open grounds - area beaten down to compacted dirt, crashed tree trunks, faded scorch marks along the tree line – and then up, where two ninja crashed into each other 10 feet in the air. 

He’d become so used to the watered-down drivel at the academy that he’d forgotten what a real _fight_ looked like. No excess movement, no clumsy footwork, no hesitancy. Just two blurs that barely made contact with each other, and when they did Sasuke could feel the air pressure from the force of the block. Like how _that man_ used to fight. 

He had thought perhaps those memories were exaggerated over the years, like looking at Hokage Mountain and realizing it wasn’t quite as big as it had been when you were a toddler. Now, it was clear they hadn’t been. Sasuke wondered if perhaps he had even underestimated real fights. His goal seemed farther than he’d thought it was. 

Between these two jōnin, blows were raining faster than he could process. Their bodies contorting in ways he had never even considered; they were doing moves Sasuke had tried and constantly failed. It left something deep and burning in his stomach. 

Something resentful, desperate, and somehow embarrassed. He’d almost been proud of himself at graduation. He was obviously the best in class, leagues better than anyone else, and he’d let it get into his head. He’d opened his parents' old room, sat on the bed, told himself Tou-san would have been proud. 

But Tou-san wouldn’t have been. Sasuke clearly wasn’t enough. He didn’t have the luxury of complacency, not if he was going to achieve his goal. _This_ was the standard he had to set himself against, not whatever the incompetent academy chūnin had been teaching him. He was stupid for not realizing it sooner, he’d wasted time, he’d dishonored his clan. 

The dumbass and the pink banshee finally caught up just as the jōnin disengaged, touching down a dozen feet away from each other. 

No – they had disengaged purposefully, to give the spar a fresh start. Neither man said as much, but they held their ‘start’ position for longer than otherwise made sense and when they started again the blows were slower, telegraphed clearly. So, even fighting so fast they both must have been entirely aware of the genin. Was this them holding back? 

“Which one is Hibachi-sensei?” said the idiot, idiotically. 

Sasuke refused to divert his attention from the fight to answer. The banshee was good enough at managing their class clown anyway, whispering to him furiously and pointing between the boy in a green jumpsuit and his obvious inspiration on the field, a man in a matching green jumpsuit. 

She even got him to remain quiet for several minutes, even if he plunked himself on the ground in a particularly stupid move. Small debris splattered a few inches from their feet, it wasn’t impossible for something larger to flatten him into a pile of even more unflattering clothes. 

The jumpsuit boy was visibly invested in his sensei, twitching and shifting weight in accordance with the man’s taijutsu. After several minutes he let out some sort of distressed noise, “Gai-sensei...Gai-sensei is...” 

Their kunoichi nodded seriously. “He’s getting pummeled.” 

What? His eyes narrowed on the fight. That couldn’t be true. This Hatake person was much more mobile, occasionally flickering with various movement jutsu, but Sasuke would have bet on the other one winning the long game. 

“Doesn’t Gai-sensei have Hatake-sensei on the defensive?” Asked the pink one, he refused to call her a teammate or a classmate, hesitantly but not incorrectly. 

The other kunoichi startled, looking over to them with a self-conscious shrug. “Oh, thought they would wait and explain – sorry. Hatake-san is a ninjutsu specialist, and Gai-sensei said when he goes like this,” she held her hand up in a relaxed sort of open palm, all her fingers straight together, “it represents some sort of piercing attack. Hatake-san wanted a pure taijutsu spar, but Gai-sensei said that was unfair so Hatake gets to use that one and any D-rank ninjutsu.” 

Pink-hair just blinked, glancing up to the fight for a little while before turning back to the other one. “Ano, Tenten, can you explain what’s happening?” The other kunoichi looked a bit annoyed. Sasuke would have been too, this is exactly why you didn’t entertain losers. They would keep asking you for things if you let them, and it dragged you down in the end. 

“They’re fighting” said the Hyuuga, probably to shut the pink one up so they could all focus. 

The dead last bristled. He turned away from the two jōnin to protest angrily, because he was an idiot and didn’t realize every second watching this was important. “Don’t be rude to Sakura-chan!” 

“Okay, okay.” the girl waved away the growing tension, “You’ve got to look at their styles. Their body positions.” 

The short response left the idiots in awkward silence while the _competent_ people continued to watch the fight. An elegant dismissal, honestly. Just keep breadcrumbing enough to minimize your own inconvenience. Appeasement is better control than defiance, and all that. 

The ground rumbled, Gai having caught Hatake in a brutal piledriver so both were pushing against the ground to force the other into it. 

The blonde menace didn’t get the tension between genin, but at least he seemed still. Mostly, he still leaned forward to watch a crack in the earth splinter towards them. “Jumpsuit-san looks like the academy instructors, but faster. Facemask-jiji jumps around like the shadows do.” 

Hyuuga ‘hn’ed absently. “Aerial taijutsu maneuvers are limited. Mid-air movement is a specialized skill.” How vague, the sort of response Sasuke could agree with because he knew what he was talking about, but someone else might not. One of the idiots made a frustrated noise at the non-response but the Hyuuga seemed content to leave it at that, so the breadcrumbs continued.

Sasuke needed to say something smart. Prove he wasn’t like the other two of his team. He didn’t like being dismissed, and he certainly wasn’t going to be lumped in as an idiot just because of some bullshit assignment so he said, “Gai initiates more contact, but Hatake diffuses the force he actually takes. So Hatake gets more clean hits, and in more lethal places.” Once you accounted for that piercing attack whats-her-face was talking about, but it would do no good to admit he hadn’t figured that out before she said it. 

He should have, there was a weird pattern to that attack. Hatake always took a moment to prep for it, obviously to account for chakra molding now that he knew, and hit in a straight line. It was the sort of thing shinobi noticed, and he hadn’t. 

He focused harder on finding patterns in the fight, keeping a half ear out for the slow volley of benign questions and prompts the pink girl and the orange idiot asked – but the other genin didn’t point out anything else he couldn’t figure out. Gai prioritized good form for maximum strength, Hatake compromised on that strength to be a smaller target and hide his vitals. Hatake was more used to fighting groups; he flash-stepped away the second his back was exposed. Gai preferred to engage regardless of opponent position. What did that mean for the fight? How would Sasuke handle either of them? Think, he had to think. 

“Do you think Gai-sensei resents us?” It was a low, low whisper breaking the silence he hadn't realized had fell over the group. Sasuke wasn’t supposed to hear that, he was sure. The girl had said it softly, and to her teammates. How uncomfortable, but it would be even more awkward to walk away, wouldn’t it? She’d know she’d been overheard. 

The boy in spandex responded slowly, “One's will burns strongest in adversity.” 

“They were evenly matched, before. He was so proud of that.” Sasuke tried to tune them out best he could. Focus on the fight, focus on anything else. How the shifting gravel under the jōnins' feet showed their weight distributions, how the trees leaves predicted the shunshin, anything. 

The spar didn’t end spectacularly. The jōnin just broke apart, one called to another, and then they met to make the seal of reconciliation. The orange brat booed loudly, but it was the right call. They were both dirt-covered and roughed up, the spar wasn’t going anywhere unless they started aiming to maim. 

And this spandexed, radiant, bowl-headed man running past them on his hands didn’t look like he could maim anyone. _Where was he going?_ He disappeared into the woods, but his team didn't look surprised so Sasuke didn't ask.

“Next up, then.” said a deep voice behind him. Sasuke startled, all 5 of the rest doing the same, at sudden appearance of the masked man. “We’ll see how you measure up.” 

He was tall. So much taller than Sasuke had expected him to be, even slouched. Only a wedge of his face was visible between his headband and his mask. His head was tilted like he meant to be friendly and his eye closed softly, but the tone of his voice didn’t match the projected innocence. 

“Ano, will this be, like, a test?” hinted the pink haired girl unsubtly. Right, the test to determine if they would be apprenticed under this man. Sasuke couldn’t afford to fail, this was the best option to learn the things _that man_ did. 

“In a manner of speaking,” the jonin looked to the other team and pulled out a scroll to hand to them. “Gai has accepted this mission on your behalf. Individual spars against the brats, fight until your opponent yields, is unable to fight, or requires immediate medical attention. Haruno Sakura against Yuan Tenten, Uzumaki Naruto against Hyuuga Neji, and Uchiha Sasuke against Rock Lee.” 

* * *

Kakashi’s bones hurt. He expected it, he asked for it, and it was always a little inspiring to watch how Gai refused to compromise, but _he fucking hurt_. 

Maybe getting beaten up until he couldn’t think straight wasn’t the best way to initiate target analysis, but in his defense – after reading the finer details in his absolute cat shit mission, needed to get some sense beaten into him or he was going to assassinate the Hokage. 

People who assassinate their Hokage are probably trash, but people who let Shimura Danzō indirectly dictate 9 pages ( _before_ the appendixes _)_ of mission parameters are inexcusable threats to the village. 

He didn’t know if the Sandaime had gone fully senile, didn’t read the full text, or if he just never expected Kakashi to abide by the parameters in the first place. It was negligent, any way you looked at it. 

True, the scroll was purposefully designed to be confusing. Kakashi himself wasn’t done picking it apart yet. Maybe after all his years, the Sandaime’s long ingrained shinobi paranoia had softened. It was easy, often necessary, to trust in your own system. Trust that whoever writes your missions does it correctly, trust that when someone references established code they’re pulling on appropriate behavior, trust that when you approve a text it gets transcribed exactly as it is onto the mission scroll. 

But shinobi aren’t meant to trust so many people. There were too many factors to juggle, too many things to keep track of. That’s why Konoha had information choke-points. You trust your commander, you trust your Kage, you trust yourself. Only these are unquestionable. 

Kakashi's questioning them now, though. It's a bitter feeling. 

Court etiquette and packing lists, these were understandable things for genin to know. Mandating Kakashi have them memorize the Shinobi Sanitation Standards – ANBU protocol for disappearing civilian inconveniences? That was Danzō checking to see how his old friend, Hiruzen, was doing. Was he still sharp enough to notice the difference three capitalized letters made?

And if he didn’t catch something like that on one of his pet projects, what else could Danzō have slipped in - not only to mission scrolls, but into the administration? 

Underneath the underneath, shadows in shadows. Did the Hokage really not know, was it even possible for such a man to make that simple a mistake? Kakashi’s mind said of course, he’d orchestrated similar coups with similarly positioned men, but this was the _Hokage_ and if Konoha wasn’t safe nowhere was. 

Kakashi had tried to see the hidden message. Tried to find what he was supposed to do with all those words and horrible implications because the alternative was near unthinkable, but there were only more traps, more contingencies. He might have been able to skirt some of them, but if Kakashi was found negligent in mission duties not only was he to be court marshaled, but the ‘assets’ were turned over to Root as per the mission details. Not in so few words, of course, but that was the conclusion spread out over the pages. 

So, Kakashi had drunk his regicidal impulses away last night. Right before team assignments seemed a popular time for it. Prospective and established sensei had gathered to share advice and gripe; Gai found him predictably fast. 

Many drinks, a few hours' sleep, some very necessary reconnaissance, and a traded favor later, Kakashi watched Gai’s team decimate the brats he had to make into shinobi. 

Haruno Sakura, painstakingly average. She had clearly practiced her forms, memorized a few tactics, but she didn’t have a clue how to apply them. Tenten held her back with a barrage of shuriken and surrounded her with foot-spikes. Sakura deflected and dodged the first, but fell directly into the second, having not seen them thrown. Procedural – see threat, deal with threat, locate next threat – but too locked into the idea of a fight to effectively participate in it. 

More interesting were the other brat’s reactions. Naruto watched Sakura fight like it was sport. He gave it the same enthusiasm he’d given Kakashi’s spar with Gai, maybe more. He shouted encouragement, but he didn’t put himself _in_ the fight. Thoughtless. Like the old faux-ninja movie posters he'd seen in the kid's room, like the dummy bag with crudely drawn faces of his classmates stuck on, like the broken and disregarded equipment he'd assumedly scavenged from various training grounds. 

Sasuke was dismissive to an insult. He watched Tenten more than Sakura, but he watched Kakashi more than Tenten. Smart, familiar. Kakashi pulled out a notebook and a pen. He opened it mostly flat, doodling a hehenonomoheji. The Uchiha’s eyes narrowed and he shifted his hand out of Kakashi’s sight. His shoulder still moved, on a slight delay from Kakashi’s. Mimicking his movements to figure out what he was writing. He’d clearly figured out a way to continue clan training without the experts around. It might have been the academy, but that little trick was usually taught through the Intelligence Division. His form was off. He was learning from scrolls or adapting a sharingan version of the technique based on something he remembered from Before. 

Tenten was doing her job admirably. Instead of ending the fight she pulled out a battle fan, sweeping away the foot-spikes and charging in with more taijutsu. She feigned some openings, but Sakura either wasn’t fast enough or confident enough to capitalize on them. 

“You can give up,” Kakashi called out to Sakura. He kept the tone from his voice and only just peeked up from his notebook. No sense in having her think he’s goading her; he really would like to get on to more productive things. 

Naruto shot up from where he sat, “No way would Sakura-chan give up! She can beat up Bun-head no problem!” 

Tenten frowned at the nickname, but only looked up to Kakashi. He shrugged. “It’s as good a day as any for a hospital visit.” 

“Wait!” Sakura shouted, but Tenten sent another gust of wind at her – stronger this time, cutting through bits of her dress. “What happens if I surrender?” 

“The fight ends.” 

She could barely speak as she braced herself against the winds. “and I'd,” Sakura gasped in the reprieves to shout, “still pass?” Ah, had someone spilled about the final genin tests.

He sighed, that hadn't been a factor wanted to introduce right now. In a flash step he was on the other side of the fight, just a foot away from Sakura and unmoved from the winds that pushed her back. “It just means Tenten-san gets a mission bonus,” Kakashi explained. “Gai requested a ninjutsu consult for her.” Tenten startled at that, suddenly twirling around, swinging her closed fan like a bat and hurdling Sakura into a tree. Kakashi watched her fly with a cursory eye.

“Yes! I knew you were listening, Gai-sensei!” Tenten's fist pumped the air like she hadn't just sent another person to the hospital. (Kakashi didn't suppose she was intentionally vicious, but it was telling all the same.)

Sakura didn't make to get back up. She coughed, spitting blood, and when her hands went to wipe at her mouth she trembled. “I'm done,” she said at length, though she looked about to cry. 

Kakashi knew she would surrender, it had been clear from the first bout. Still, there was something distasteful curling his mouth, unsatisfied. Pushing people beyond their breaking point was stupid, Kakashi wouldn't ask it of his team. Still, something dark flickered at the sight of her, searching for an out the second she felt outclassed. Pitiful, weak, lacking. His brain spit these words; Kakashi didn't know if he believed them. He'd never say these things to her, he'd never write them on a report, but he felt them all the same. 

Naruto started making some sort of loud speech about never giving up. Bold words, bolder promises, but it was Kakashi that knelt next to Sakura. She looked back at him with trepidation. He positioned himself carefully. He kept his shoulders relaxed, made sure not block the sun, his hands loose and forearms upward as he rested forearms against his knees. The subtle appearance of vulnerability. “Would you let me see the extent of your injuries? I would have to touch you.” She nodded hesitantly. “Tell me if this makes you uncomfortable, then.” 

He kept his hands light, clinical, but this was a young girl and Sakura flushed anyway. She looked away, behind him. To Sasuke. Her face was guarded, carefully blank. Too blank for her fractured ribs. Kakashi brought his hands away, shuffling back to an appropriate distance. He schooled himself into something kind, letting his voice drop like a secret. "Surrender was fine, Sakura-san.” 

She looked up at him a little brighter. “It was the right choice?” 

“No.” His response was too immediate, too short for the softness he’d been going for; her face contorted back to something hollow. Ah linguistic nuance, something Kakashi had fallen out of practice with, he supposed. “Would you like to visit the hospital now or take a pain reliever and go after Sasuke’s match?” Perhaps calling out her fascination with the Uchiha was uncomfortably direct, but he needed her to know he knew, and having her observe the rest of the matches would likely be beneficial. He wasn't going to shame her for this, like many things in life she would learn to shame herself soon enough. 

“...the pain reliever.” Her voice was small, smaller than he could ever remember anyone being. 

“Are you currently taking any medications or supplements, or have you taken performance enhancers in the past two weeks?” The girl furrowed her brow, shaking her head. Kakashi pulled out a small corked bottle, shaking a pill into her hand. “Be careful standing then, and fix your headband - it's slipped off.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second and third fights, the team goes to the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic does assume its readers have a passing familiarity with the Narutoverse, first because Kakashi does and a lot of it is going to be in his perspective, second because I’m not going to spend four paragraphs describing the byakugan when we all know what it is. There are some nods that I haven't fully explained because I think most people will understand what’s happening with the information given. That said, if I’m saying something and you’re totally not getting what I mean, lmk so I can put that exposition in – I’m not trying to leave anyone confused. 
> 
> ’m not a superfan personally, so I don’t think the level of assumed knowledge will be arduous. Most things that pull from canon specifically (instead of just general fandom knowledge) will prob come from rewatching clips on YT to get character references – e.g. there’s a scene with Kushina talking about how she thinks Obito is an unskilled ninja, but how she hopes Naruto will have his indominable will. I’m taking inspo from those clips, but I might miss some things because I’m seeing them in isolation – feel free to call me out on them. There’s also gonna be things I change, but I don’t think any of my setup is directly in conflict with canon. If anything seems off, or even if you disagree with an artistic choice, feel free to say so in the comments. I won’t say I’ll always agree and change my direction, but I genuinely appreciate any manner of engagement and I’d love to hear about any impressions you have!

Naruto was not like either of his parents. He might have looked like his father, but Minato had been collected and tender and brutally competent; a dependable comrade and a terrifying enemy. Naruto was none of these. Naruto was loud and opinionated like people used to call Kushina, but he held none of his mother’s patience or calculation. His wildness was belligerent, rude, unskilled; he was everything Kushina herself said made a bad shinobi. Minato would have him kicked out of the force in a month. 

Maybe Minato and Kushina had been different in their youth, more like Naruto, but Kakashi didn’t know them then. He couldn’t see how his precious people had made this raging brat of a puppy, and he didn’t know if that his current mission more or less difficult. 

He settled Sakura with the others and gestured for the next fight. Hyuuga Neji took efficient steps to where Tenten had stood previously and pivoted stiffly to stare blankly at Naruto. Naruto didn’t even move, he just kept talking - spewing loud, belittling, ignorant comments. 

“Come here so I can finish this poor excuse of a match,” Neji clipped out, about as bored as his affect would allow. “You are so far outclassed the despair of your loss is hardly worth my sweat. You waste my time.” 

Cute kid. 

It took Naruto a second to process he was being insulted. Kakashi watched, the bluster falling from him as he realized Neji meant to fight him (as if Kakashi hadn’t just told him 10 minutes ago). Credit to him, he rallied only a moment later - pushing up to stand with a dirty look. 

He was tense in all the wrong places. Eyes squinting, shoulders pulled, but his legs were twitchy and knees were locked. He raised an arm to point at Neji and his entire torso tilted from it. “You talk big game, but you won’t be able to beat me. I’m gunna be the greatest ninja in the world!” 

“Though we all have our destinies, I doubt _that_ is yours.” Neji gestured a flat, open hand towards the empty space across from him, unimpressed. Naruto stomped over and Neji dropped into stance. 

Kakashi wasn’t very familiar with Gentle Fist but he knew enough to recognize the opener Neji chose and _oh, someone had been very naughty._ Naruto ran in brawling, hitting fast and getting hit back faster. The forms of Gentle Fist were nothing like the Academy’s and Naruto just kept pushed down. Again, again, again. 

“ **K** **age** **Bunshin** **no** **Jutsu**!” 

The clearing crowded with at least a dozen Naruto lurching forward with single-minded determination. Neji froze, surrounded and thrown off-guard, unsure where to attack. One clone’s fist made contact, dispelling itself with the force of the punch, and Neji toppled back. 

Skill or luck? Shadow clones had fully developed chakra coils, making them particularly effective against the byakugan, and for all his skill Neji was a genin and unlikely to be used to fighting against overwhelming numbers – but did Naruto know that? 

The clones had Neji by his arms, but he kicked up and over through a flip – wrenching their arms around with a gruesome crack as they dispelled. “I will admit I did not know clones could be solid,” huffed Neji, winded, just barely, “but you have now wasted your advantage.” Then he was on the offensive and adapting fast, he popped one clone with three quick strikes to the ribs, but it dispelled on the second, so Neji spared the next one only a blow to the neck. By the third, he only needed to brush across an arm and the clones would disintegrate. They imploded in on themselves from the point of contact, a single disruption in the construct destabilizing it. 

Neji hit the real Naruto somewhere in the middle of the pack, but he didn’t stop. He ripped through the rest, ending only to look back at Naruto through the smoke. The other boy grunted in pain, trying to stand on a partially disabled leg. Neji let the defeat stretch on and didn’t advance again. He just set his hand out in front of him and beckoned for Naruto to charge. 

And the idiot obliged. He summoned double the number of clones, then again when those failed; he rushed Neji from behind, catapulted himself above, and each time Naruto stumbled back. Neji only centered himself and beckoned Naruto again. Naruto looked back to Kakashi each time, like he expected Kakashi to call the match how the Academy instructors would have. 

“You can give up.” Kakashi called instead, just the same as he had with Sakura. Bland, unjudgmental. Naruto took it like a taunt. 

“I won’t,” said the kid, pushing himself up on his unsteady leg, cradling an injured arm, most likely bleeding internally. 

Neji turned to Kakashi, “Sensei, further attacks will-” 

“I’ll intervene on incapacitation or immediately dangerous injury, as said.” Kakashi interrupted. He raised his book dismissively, though Hyuuga eyes would clearly be able to track his eye as it never left Naruto’s shuddering form. “I understand your concern, genin. Continue.” 

The rest of the two teams fidgeted nervously on the other side of Kakashi’s field of view. Sasuke, grim and nervous despite himself; Sakura, disbelief turning her outrage to silence; Lee, shaking with the physical force of holding himself back; Tenten, eyes tracking across the mission scroll, over and over, like some grand meaning was to be found there. 

His meaning was not grand. It was simple, brutal. Shinobi die. They fight, they suffer, they kill, they have no guarantee of safety. Not on the battlefield, not in training. This was not a game, and this was not a classroom, and Kakashi was not some Chūnin babysitter at the Academy. Neither was he Gai, who encouraged his team so sweetly, and neither was he Minato, who fostered Kakashi like his own and gentled even Obito to competence. Kakashi wished he was, wished he could look at these floundering children and see what his sensei might have seen, done what his sensei might have done, but Kakashi did not know how. 

“Uzumaki-san, stand down,” warned Neji. 

Naruto stumbled forward still. Foot in front of foot, still somehow cocksure in his own victory. “I’m...so sick...of...losing,” he gasped out through the pain, “sick of...people und-underestimating me.” 

“My escalation will rupture your organs.” 

“Stop talking...and...fight me.” 

Neji countered every step Naruto took, keeping the distance between them until Naruto launched forward with a yell – Neji sidestepped cleanly, hitting twice along his shoulder. Naruto’s arm slumped but he turned again, kicking out with his good leg. Neji bent backwards, and Naruto’s own follow-through sent him sprawling on the ground. 

“Stand down,” Neji repeated, but Naruto was still struggling to stand again. With careful steps around, to Naruto’s bad side, Neji stepped in and grabbed the boy’s ankle. He hit several spots there, then along his back, then again across his shoulders, finally letting him drop once more to the ground. 

Naruto just shuddered in the dirt now, twitching. Kakashi snapped his book shut. “Mah, I’m willing to call that incapacitated.” 

Neji nodded tersely and stiffly walked back to his team. Naruto cried out; voice muffled by the ground so just Kakashi could make it out. “It’s not over. I can still- I can beat him.” 

Kakashi shunshined over, crouching next to the him. “Then go do so, Naruto-kun.” 

The boy tried to, struggling against himself. He made the hand-sign for shadow clones, mumbled into the ground again, but nothing came of it and Naruto grimaced again in pain. 

Kakashi slipped out a kunai, holding its blade against Naruto’s neck. “You’re dead, brat. Several times over by this point.” He held it steady, even as the kid struggled. The knife dug into his skin, Kakashi could hear in sick detail as blade met blood. “You’re slicing open your own throat, if you couldn’t tell,” he said, light and soft like he had been with Sakura but the feeling wasn’t the same because this, this was a different kind of strain he couldn’t keep entirely from his voice. A rising panic that his steady hands belied; the fear that Kakashi had missed something, that Kakashi didn’t know anything at all, and that Kakashi was about to kill this boy. 

Kakashi wasn’t inexperienced with fear, it was something he dealt with every day. This same panic was what churned under his skin every time he took Team Ro out, every time he drank to a buzz and his fingers itched and his senses found enemies out of alley-rats, every time he woke with his hands around the throat of a well-intentioned but terrified bed-partner after they’d taken one too many liberties with his sleeping person. Yes, Kakashi was often afraid, but that had never been a valid excuse to stop, so he kept his kunai steady and Naruto struggled harder against it, leaving a deeper and deeper gash through his neck. 

“Give up,” Kakashi reminded. Naruto did not, he pulled against the knife like he didn’t think he could actually die. His struggles were weaker, his blood still flowing, but still the boy didn’t consider his options so Kakashi held firm. He watched with forcibly dispassionate eyes as Naruto fell into unconsciousness. 

His fingers twisted, middle over index, and a second Kakashi appeared on the other side of Naruto. Kakashi brought that hand to the kunai blade, green briefly flickering there, but pulled away entirely as his shadow clone picked the boy up and sped away. 

In a half-second Kakashi was back in front of the children again, book in hand and looking bored. The kunai stashed like it had never been out, and as far as the genin knew it hadn’t been. “Next match.” 

Lee looked uncertain, but Sasuke stepped forward cock-sure. The grim set of his face had turned to something satisfied, pleased, anticipatory. Something that looked half offended at Lee’s uncertainty, how he didn’t take Sasuke to be such a threat. 

“I’m not like the others,” Sasuke informed him, but Lee didn’t seem heartened. 

He stepped up to match Sasuke, rolling out his ankle experimentally and testing the uneven ground. “I understand you are a... genius, Uchiha-san, but my hard work is more than enough to match you.” 

Dismissive, good. The Uchiha could do with the insult. Let him hype himself up as _different_ from his teammates, and let him get knocked back down all the same. Not letting another precocious little Uchiha graduate early was understandable, but counterintuitively, it had done no favors to the boy’s ego. 

They started without Kakashi’s prompting. Sasuke at least made use of the area, flipping back into the trees and sending out barrages of kunai, shuriken, flat knives. Lee dodged, speed blurring him from untrained eyes as he closed the gap rapidly, getting a good kick in before Sasuke was off and swinging through the trees with an unsettled look on his face. 

He got hit again three times even as he ran, Lee’s speed unmatchable and devastating to any of Sasuke’s attempts to guard. Chasing, catching, running again. Sasuke finding little moments to catch his breath, but they were less his own skill and more Lee's generosity. Letting his opponent ready himself just so he could test himself all the more.

The Uchiha should have pressed that advantage, running further, hiding better, but he didn't. He took his lulled moments at face value, as young shinobi do. It wasn't the first trick in the book, but feigned openings were certainly not revolutionary. Sasuke just hadn't realized they weren't always so literal. 

So Lee kept striking just as Sasuke caught his breath and then letting the other run to catch it again. Between branches, across uneven roots, kicking up sand, testing, testing, testing. Lee wan't used to such conditions, but he was clearly at least informed of what to do in them. He braced a hand against unsteady ground, flushed Sasuke out from spots he felt comfortable in. 

Finally Sasuke retreated again to the clearing, jumping once and then flipping back. Lee followed, a half step away from where Sasuke first landed, and watched as Sasuke settled there. 

Sasuke met his eyes, taunting, “Going to keep disappearing on me like a coward? Or are you going to fight me head on.” 

Ha. As if Sasuke had been fighting head on, running through the trees as he was, being shinobi trained as he was – but it was a clever jab, accurate to a rudimentary assessment of Lee’s personality thus far with how it pointed out how the older boy didn’t press his advantage when Sasuke was down and tended to attack as if he wanted a fair fight. 

More succinctly, it was clever because it worked. Lee kept eyes on Sasuke as he launched forward, not realizing the area was grassier than the rest of the clearing, not remembering this was where Tenten had swept her footspikes to. He slipped with a grunt, just enough time for Sasuke to flip through the hand signs and- 

“ **Katon:** **Gōkakyū** **no** **Jutsu** ” Fire spewed from Sasuke’s lips, hot and ferocious, licking through the clearing in a moment and leaving only blackened ash that moment later. 

Sasuke wheezed as he finished, sucking in air greedily, so it took a second for him to survey his destruction, see that nothing lay in it, and recognize that as dangerous. He jerked to the right, to run again, but his body caught on Lee’s knee as it cracked along his ribs. Sasuke spun into the grass. 

Lee stood over him. “You might not believe it right away, but you simply don’t have the speed to keep up with my taijutsu.” 

He didn’t walk away then, nor did he drop stance or assume he had won or look to Kakashi to call the match. Lee kicked away every attempt of Sasuke’s to stand up again, knocking out his arms, putting pressure against his ribs, smacking away where Sasuke tried to grab Lee’s leg. 

Sasuke managed the first four signs of the kawarimi onehanded, but Lee noticed on the Snake sign and kicked him again – sending both log and Sasuke halfway the distance, still in the open. Then Lee was on him again, knee to his back, and pressed. Pressed until Sasuke cried out a hollow yelp. 

Sasuke muttered what must have been him yielding; it was so quiet Kakashi couldn’t hear, even with his enhanced senses. Lee let him up tersely. The mini-Gai nodded to Kakashi and left Sasuke there in the dirt to push himself up. 

Kakashi left him too, signing Team 10’s mission scroll perfunctorily as the team cast uncomfortable eyes at the injured genin around them. The team they’d led to this very clearing, bright eyed and confident, but left in ruins. One in the hospital, the other two needing to be there. He handed the scroll back to Tenten with a muttered promise to be in touch about the team’s bonus rewards, but the girl didn’t seem so enthusiastic about it now. She perked, but only nervously, and her gratitude and pleasantries were wooden. 

The team turned away awkwardly, Lee and Tenten starting to discuss a team dinner now that the sun was beginning to set. Neji hung back just a second, pale eyes fixed upon Kakashi. Kakashi blinked slowly back. The boy turned to follow his team, but in an unthinking moment Kakashi shunshined in front of him, blocking his path. 

“Your stance,” Kakashi said. Neji kept a stoic face but Kakashi could see the rising flush on his cheeks, the anxious hammer of his heartrate along his throat. 

“The Hyuuga use a clan style-” 

“I’ve seen.” The boy’s eyes flicked up, to Kakashi’s covered eye, then to the retreating backs of his teammates. His jaw worked in a subtle grind. “And whenever I've seen that stance,” he let the words fall slowly, let the boy’s heartrate rise, the panic cloying, before he switched to a more casual tone, “I’ve noticed the leading hand tracks somewhere in the lower stomach – not the chest.” 

Neji looked back at him, byakugan suddenly active and piercing and judgmental. Kakashi let him look, let him judge. Kakashi let his eye close softly, like a smile. 

Kakashi shrugged and watched with a lazily hooded eye when Neji didn’t seem inclined to do much else. “It’s not a threat, Hyuuga-san.” Though it was. It was knowledge, it was leverage, and those things were never anything but threats. “Just an observation. I was hardly focused on Hiashi at the time.” 

Neji seemed to know not to take him at face value, the name drop making him more both more suspicious and giving Kakashi exactly the credibility he needed. They kept eyes on eye until finally Neji nodded. “Thank you,” he said, terse. 

He was much to well-bred to ask what he wanted to, _what do you want for your silence, never mind your help?_ At the same time, Kakashi wasn’t going to give his answer so easily. So instead he waved jauntily and shunshined back to Sasuke’s prone form, his back to the dallying Hyuuga, and hoisted his little arrogant prodigy on his shoulder to weak but indignant protests. He hoisted Sakura too and vanished from the clearing before the Hyuuga had even caught up with his team. 

* * *

Kakashi dispelled his clone just as he crossed onto the hospital’s grounds, a surge of memories making the area only slightly less unfamiliar. He walked directly though the ER and the nurses let him pass. Averted their eyes, even. Maybe it was the vest, or the two half-dead children he was carting around, but it was bad security either way. 

Naruto was passed out on one of the beds in Room 402. Kakashi set his two other charges down on the second bed and, seeing neither one much capable of complaint, gone as fast as he came. 

The man Kakashi could remember treating Naruto was two rooms over but Kakashi kept going, passing nurses and doctors all the same. He came eventually to the end of the hall he remembered, to a young iryō-nin crouched next to a gurney, eating a bento. Kakashi crouched next to her, quiet as he could. 

“Yo.” 

The woman startled, knocking the gurney away. Kakashi leaned over to catch its wrungs and keep it from rolling away, leaving the woman to push herself out from under his arm so she could stand. 

“I’m off duty.” Her voice was higher than he expected, not young, but soft in a way that didn’t fit with her muscle. 

“Aa, sorry,” Kakashi lied easily, putting something like reproach in his voice and standing lazily to scratch along the back of his headband. “I just wanted to know if I could commandeer an extra bed for 402? I can do it myself; I won’t ask for your time...” 

She regarded him suspiciously, tapping her puzzle book nervously on her thigh. Sudoku. Kakshi made a point not to look directly at it. “Two beds to a room,” she said, paused, “but what do you need a third for?” 

Kakashi shrugged, let his eye smile and head tilt just so. “Well if I made one of them stay in a separate room, wouldn’t they get lonely?” 

The kunoichi squinted her eyes a bit at Kakashi, but whether by kindness or curiosity she caved – walking off back where Kakashi had come from. He followed, first waiting while the woman peeked in 402, then to 401 to grab a cot, then back to 402. Kakashi ushered Sasuke to the new bed while the iryō-nin puttered around Sakura. 

“I don’t need,” Sasuke coughed, and though he tried to hide it Kakashi could see the blood where he’d shielded his mouth, “don’t need the hospital.” 

Kakashi ignored him. The hospital was sure to have bad memories for any shinobi and Sasuke had more cause for this than most of his peers, but the brats would have to learn to deal with it. Either until they stopped getting hurt or convinced one of themselves to study iryō-ninjutsu. Win-win-win for them really, given ‘legitimate and unavoidable training injuries’ were just about the only break Kakashi’s parameters would allow the team. 

Needless to say, Kakashi was about to become a very dedicated enforcer of full and complete recovery periods. Maybe Danzō had a sense of humor after all. 

“Asano, your boyfriend’s been harassing the front desk for you,” said a voice from the doorway flatly. Kakashi turned to see the iryō-nin he’d brought - Asano, he filed the name away - tucking away the clipboard with Naruto’s patient information casually and Naruto’s attending doctor at the door – his eyes not on the other iryō-nin, but watching Kakashi. Asano muttered some thanks, brushed out of the room, and when Kakashi could hear her footsteps fading down the hallway the other man narrowed in on Kakashi. “Why are my patients multiplying, Hatake?” 

He didn’t answer, but Iō had known him long enough he probably didn’t expect Kakashi to. Answering questions just invited people to ask you more questions, and that tended to leave the impression Kakashi cared about what those people thought, or would take their opinions into consideration and that was just inconvenient and inefficient. No, if jōnin of his caliber had earned anything, it was the authority to do what he wanted. 

If he wanted to pull rank and go over the heads of some desk-chūnin in receiving so his team got faster medical care, well, they’d just have to accept Kakashi had his reasons. 

Iō, despite his reluctance, seemed to be on the same page. Or at least, he’d given up fighting such eccentricities. Going along with shinobi ridiculousness was probably in the hospital protocols at this point. He took Kakashi’s new arrivals in stride despite his exasperation, tapping quickly on his pager and flagging a civilian nurse to grab him the necessary intake paperwork. 

Kakashi hunkered down on Naruto’s visitor’s chair, keeping a quiet eye on his two subdued genin. They hadn’t said much since their respective battles, but they hadn’t had much of a chance. Now, though, Kakashi watched them. 

Sasuke was as expected; he kept accidentally aggravating his ribs, unused to being so severely injured, but he bore the pain quietly. Angrily, even. He’d ignored Sakura’s attempts at getting his attention at least four times, instead alternating between brooding and staring expectantly at Kakashi. 

Sakura had fallen even more into herself, dejected, but seemed to have come to terms with her own failure. She avoided looking anywhere around Kakashi, loud sighs and other reminders of his presence had her swallowing nervously, still, she seemed to have a curious mind not otherwise mentioned in her file and it showed itself even in her nervousness. 

She’d been marked as selectively competitive with her peers, praise-seeking though not ambitious, undermotivated and indecisive – but as Iō worked his way through her treatment she asked pointed questions and observed thoughtfully. 

That wasn’t necessarily counter to the profile, but a quick acceptance of one's own limitations – accepting defeat, accepting another year at the academy – could easily be mislabeled as disinterest rather than caution. A risk-adverse personality became stagnant without clear guidance; shinobi life involved many difficult choices but the knowledge necessary to make informed decisions was scarce for civilian-raised shinobi. A lack of clearly definable ambition could be the natural conclusion to Sakura’s obvious high trust in authority, a ‘belief in the process’, deferring judgement either to a qualified person or until she, herself, had more information. 

Then again, maybe she just found the silence awkward, or for whatever reason wanted Iō to like her and found detailed questions were the best way to attract positive adult attention. So many potentialities, not enough data to say. 

The nurse had returned with intake papers and Kakashi put away such thoughts to instead rattle off various bureaucratic nonsense on behalf of his brats, who evidently hadn’t thought to memorize their identification numbers yet. Sakura looked quite affronted he had hers, civilian sensibilities perhaps. 

“Is there a team number?” asked Iō, looking up to Kakashi with a look on the border between teasing and reprimand, “I’d assume ‘no’ knowing your record, Hatake, but with wounds like this all over even _you_ have to give these kids a pass, right?” 

He didn’t. At least not for that reason. Getting hurt didn’t make you shinobi, it didn’t make you brave, it didn’t make you ready for the responsibilities of taking or protecting a life. These were children and if given any choice at all Kakashi would not be the one taking that away from them. But he couldn’t say that. 

“No test,” he said instead, the closest he could come to the truth, “Team D-7." 

“We made it?” Sakura’s voice was hoarse and hopeful and very unwelcome. 

It made something sick slither in his stomach but there was no way to correct her, no way to explain that this was just a mission, no way to explain that even with that mission she was just unintended collateral,so Kakashi pushed down the feeling. He felt worse for it, the tentative pride that cracked through her voice echoed in his head like so many of his mistakes did and it cracked him too. 

Sasuke made that little Uchiha noise, something half a sigh, half a hum. Sakura looked over at him and, in that little breathy way of hers, called out, “Sasuke-kun, does that- well, that means we’re a team now, so do you want to-” 

“No.” Sasuke said. 

Iō had finished with Sakura by then and filled out what he could on both of their intake forms, so he graciously chose that moment to start healing Sasuke’s cracked ribs. “You’ll both stay the night for observation,” he told them, a compromise which made neither happy. “It’s chicken fingers tonight, very romantic.” 

Nothing for team bonding like staying a night in the hospital, after all. Sasuke didn’t seem to agree, or perhaps he just very much didn’t want to bond with his team. “I feel fine,” he said. 

“Complicated iryō-stuff, kid, it’s not as simple as it looks,” Iō dismissed, pulling Sasuke up and setting about wrapping his ribs up – much to his disgruntlement, Sakura sitting right there to watch him strip off his shirt. 

The comment was casual, but Sasuke took it as an insult – as Kakashi would have at that age, he couldn’t help but see the similarities. Sasuke glowered at the doctor, “I’m not allergic.” 

Kakashi cut in before it could escalate, full of false brightness. “Bring your clan file over in the morning, ne? They don’t self-update. The hospital will need to refresh what’s there anyway, it’s been so long.” Both flushed, Sasuke at the backhanded reprimand and Iō for whatever reason Iō had. He addressed the next to Sakura too, “I’ll put you all in for the full workup sometime this week. Bring a written family medical history.” Sakura nodded seriously. 

The iryō-nin was finishing up. He kept glancing at Kakashi like he might disappear any second (not an unfounded concern), so Kakashi stretched slowly. “I’ll go do that, then. Front desk, I’ll be back.” 

He did go down to schedule the appointments, but he loitered a minute in the lobby until Iō came down too. The man looked tired, but nowhere near the worst Kakashi had seen him. He looked better in fact, good. He told Iō so. 

“And I’m sure you look like shit, Hatake,” was his wry reply. 

Kakashi didn’t have anything to say to that. He couldn’t speak to the statement’s accuracy; he hadn’t seen his face in so long he probably wouldn’t have been able to tell anyway. 

Whatever bluster or friendly report Iō had been trying for fell away in the face of Kakashi’s silence. The iryō-nin didn’t shift nervously, he was too well trained for that, but he did swallow his own dry throat and the noise was loud and damning. 

“The, uh, Uzumaki kid,” Iō started. Kakashi nodded, but it didn’t seem to calm the other’s nerves. “Well - his throat. It was half-healed when it came in but it was sloppy. Practically all scar tissue, I won’t be able to get it out.” 

“That’s fine.” 

The man fingered a thick, pale mark along his own wrist, a spot Kakashi vividly remembered because it was burned into his sharingan. The last time he’d seen it so close and still, Iō had been half passed out, the entire squad a week away from base, and Kakashi had been trying to save his kōhai’s hand from feild amputation. “You don’t like scars.” 

It was a surprising statement, but Kakashi didn’t suppose it was wrong. He just hadn’t thought about it before. He practiced a little iryō-ninjutsu because it could save lives, he perfected that iryō-ninjutsu because he could. He was excellent with it, but he was excellent with everything. He hadn't thought about what that specifically meant about him, or if his insistence to heal himself and his team was anything other than a demonstration of his excellence. 

“I don’t like reminders; I remember enough on my own.” Kakashi said finally. His voice was stronger than he felt, disembodied in its surety and even as he said it, he wasn’t quite sure what he was referring to. Did he mean scars were reminders of wounds, or that they were reminders of Kakashi’s inability to make whole what he had broken? “Naruto needs to remember this.” 

Iō was far too pensive for Kakashi to be comfortable looking at his face, at the blankness there as he thought. Had he thought someone else had healed Naruto, and that Kakashi would be upset his genin were so soon marred? Possible, Kakashi tended to dislike people who couldn't do their jobs. 

“Genin aren’t the same as...what you’re used to. And what you’re used to isn’t normal – thats, I mean, it’s a very specific standard – in the first place.” Trying to explain to Kakashi that children were not ANBU. How out of touch did Iō think he was? “I mean, the kami know I couldn’t hack it, only lasted two years -” 

“If you feel better saving lives, then I’m glad you made the switch.” Kakashi interjected, to prevent him from rambling. 

“I don’t,” the other man caught his tongue in teeth, some sort of grimace there, “I miss it. I wish I could just fight again, but it fucked me up too bad. That’s what I’m saying.” 

Some part of him recognized Iō was commenting on the larger differences between ANBU and standard force work, but the larger part just _hurt_ at the correction. Kakashi had failed to keep this man safe, like so many others. Kakashi was so unreliable Iō had taken one look at his genin team and decided Kakashi was an unfit sensei. 

He was. He knew it already. He kept telling people he would be, but the Hokage didn’t listen. 

“These kids, they’re going to learn a lot,” Iō kept on, “but when you hear about genin teams down the line, you hear about how the best of them were like families – you know?” 

He didn’t. “Teamwork will be a primary objective of the squad,” Kakashi reassured him. 

Iō smiled softly, strangely. “Yeah, your teams are always immaculate. I've never doubted that.” 

Then what was the point of this conversation? 

Kakashi gave a stiff nod, excusing himself. He made a shadow clone and sent it up through the ceilings to spy on the brats and took off to take a shower, roll out his sore muscles, and continue on with the plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment!  
> Anything and everything is appreciated.


	4. A/N - Not a Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extended A/N about mental health that deserves it's own space.

Not a chapter, I just want to respond to a misconception. I appreciate everyone who reads through anyway, I don't think it's too long.

This is not meant as a reprimand, I just want to say my piece. Mental health is a very important topic to me and it’s a central theme in my work. 

Mental health disorders are hard to understand and very tricky to talk about if you’ve not experienced the thing you’re referring to. I can only speak from my experience, so my discussion and representation of this topic will always be imperfect and I want to acknowledge that at the top. However, if individuals cannot share their perspectives then I see no way to inform people about mental illness at all.

I think it is important we are always striving towards a more empathetic and compassionate world, and I think that fanfiction is a vastly underappreciated vehicle for this, but given some of the response I have received I also need to address the meta because some things just don't fit into dialogue. 

There are a lot of words commonly used in conversations about or around mental illness that are misrepresentative and/or that easily lend themselves to being used improperly. 

Insanity is one of these terms. (So are mania/manic, bipolar, psychotic, etc.) 

As far as I have ever heard it used, insanity can be implemented in two different ways. 

First, to say of oneself that they are feeling insane. I’ll admit to having done this at points in my life to say that there is some ineffable disconnect between what you understand and what the world reacts to. E.g. some medications will jumble the connection between your brain and mouth, so a person is able to construct coherent thoughts but when they speak none of this comes across. This often leads to people with this side effect saying they feel like they’re ‘going insane’ because they’re constantly telling friends and doctors what they’re experiencing but these people cannot respond meaningfully to them and often begin to infantilize them because they appear to be losing coherence. This quite literally feels like your reality is separating from other peoples’, and so by saying they’re ‘going insane’ a person with this symptom is conveying that there is something very wrong in their treatment plan and interactions with the world – which is a serious and important thing to be able to say. 

Second, to call another person insane. This is usually said to discredit the person being called insane, saying that their experiences have no basis and therefore ought not to be believed or dealt with meaningfully. This has a similar effect to calling a woman ‘hysterical’ (if you’re unfamiliar with why this term is bad, I’m sure there are many think-pieces on it or you can PM me). I think people who call others insane, even if they don’t mean it in a mean way, are unknowingly contributing to this culture of silence and disregard around mental health. As soon as we allow ourselves to label other people this way, we empower others to take mentally ill people’s experiences and shove them in a box that devalues them. 

A psychotic person, and I mean that literally as a person who is experiencing hallucinations, is not insane. They are experiencing real things which need be acknowledged and heard. They might say they are feeling insane as a way to convey how their experiences feel out of touch, but what they are experiencing is a neurochemical process that is very real, even if their hallucinations or delusions are not consistent with the larger progression of the world. 

It is understandable if this scares you, or makes uncomfortable, or leaves you unsure how to handle a specific situation. I’m not saying all people are always coherent, or that you should take the delusions of someone as fact. The severity of some people’s illnesses might leave them permanently disconnected from reality. I am only saying a specific diagnosis or symptom will never be the indicator of if that is true, and regardless – people deserve our compassion and to always be treated humanely. 

To talk specifically about the scene with Frog: 

First: Kakashi was neither insane nor did he feel insane. He was having a flashback, he understood he was having a flashback, and he was taking as best steps he could to manage that flashback. 

Yes, he was having trouble identifying what was real. While that involved symptoms with a similar expression to psychosis, Kakashi was not psychotic (and even if he was, this would not have changed the scene in any way. There is nothing inherent to psychosis that should carry a negative stigma or change the way you perceive someone.) 

Second: While Kakashi’s inner monologue was irregular, it was very deliberately logical. When Kakashi’s mind initially became disoriented, he grabbed the last thought he knew he had and he tried to ground himself in it. He took ‘frogs’ and ‘hear’ and attempted to figure out why he was thinking about that. It wasn’t an uwu random boy moment. I should have conveyed that better, I’m sorry I did not. 

Third: A hug and some Pakkun pets are not going to suddenly ‘fix’ Kakashi. His experiences are never going to vanish. Imho a lot of the things one might take as proof of Kakashi’s ‘brokenness’ are the very steps to coping. Sticking his head in an ice bucket to ground himself via dive reflex and temperature differences? That's fantastic, let’s normalize it. Sometimes people don't 'heal', they just manage symptoms. 

Sorry to get anybody’s hopes up for another chapter when it’s just a rant. 

Also, because I know it would give me anxiety, if you have to ask yourself if I’m replying to your comment, I’m not. And even to who inspired this – I don’t think badly of you. I hope this did not come across as accusatory or mean, I just think the current way mental illness is dealt with is so under-satisfying. 

I appreciate all the love so far more than y’all can know. New chapter in the works! (Despite this chapter not being a creative piece I still welcome any thoughts people have on it. If you feel I misrepresented something please call me out on it.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introductions, a bit of a lighter end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The important thing to remember for this chapter is that in episode 3 there was that scene where Naruto captured Sasuke and impersonated him to Sakura. Personally, I think this is a massively impactful scene for Sakura and a lot of canon can be explained by it. I hope you'll see why in my Sakura-perspective. 
> 
> Also, can we talk about how Sakura specifically tells Naruto (as Sasuke) that she finds him annoying and instead of, say, figuring out why she feels that way and making her feel more comfortable around him, Naruto decides to try and make her hate Sasuke instead? I can't even.

Sakura had barely been a kunoichi for a day and she was already failing. She’d been thrashed within 10 minutes of her first real fight. _Type-4 combat casualty,_ Iō-hakase had written on his clipboard. 

It was bizarre to see the words there. They felt real in a way the print in her textbooks and pamphlets didn’t. But it wasn't this crashing sense of right-ness like she thought being a kunoichi would be, not the bubbling _it’s here, it’s here_ , she was bracing for, and it wasn't some deep moment that shifted her entire being and hardened her into something better. No, reality was penned in dismissively, without even a reprimand, and it felt like internal bleeding. A dull ache and some joint pain, but nothing you’d really take notice of except for the circumstances. 

_Type-4 combat casualty,_ it didn’t continue like the pamphlets did but Sakura remembered enough of the rest to fill it in anyway. A 37% field mortality rate, correlation of .64 to further mission losses, .81 to death in extended combat, average survivable delay in treatment – 10 hours. 

And Tenten did this to her like it was nothing. And her sensei had let Sakura sit with it like it was nothing. 

Iō-hakase had continued to write: _training (in-village)_ under the ‘Cause’ box, dismissed the ‘Complication Risks’ check-list, and left two slanted ticks on each the related sections for debriefings and mission substitutions and other things that didn’t seem medical at all. _Discharge to active duty, 0700._

Kaa-san and Tou-san were probably worried out of their minds already, never mind how they’d be when she didn’t show up for dinner tonight or breakfast tomorrow. She’d asked a nurse if there was a way to send them a message and he’d just looked at her like she was an idiot. He’d come back sometime later to offer her use of a phone, but her parents were ordinary people – what would they be doing with a phone? 

The first iryō-nin came back a few times to check on Naruto, though she didn’t seem to care about Sakura or Sasuke much. She must have been very busy, always checking the hall to make sure nobody needed her again and she only stopping by for a minute or two each time. Iō-hakase was much nicer. He was tall and broad, the sort of man Kaa-san would call handsome, (though Sakura much preferred Sasuke, obviously). He stopped by with puddings, which Sakura promptly pushed out of sight, and a bunch of papers he insisted were games even though the folder they came in was clearly marked ‘Cognitive Rehabilitation’. 

But even Iō’s attention didn’t make her feel good like it should, because Sasuke hadn’t looked her way for two hours. 

Sasuke wasn’t going to immediately return her love, she knew that, but she’d made such great progress today. At lunch, Sasuke had come up to _her_ , said her forehead was charming and then joked with her and clearly had been about to kiss her before he lost his nerve. He had acknowledged her; he had a side to himself that was shy and sweet and funny and _cared,_ and he’d shown that side to _her_ even when it was hard for him to open up. 

Then he had gone back to being rude, and he was ignoring her now, but what happened earlier couldn’t have just disappeared. It meant something - even if Sasuke was too cool to show he knew it too. Sakura could be patient. People were complicated, and Kaa-san always said love was difficult, so if Sasuke needed time and reassurance then she would be there for him when he wanted to talk again. 

And in the meantime, Ino would be so jealous that she had already seen Sasuke’s bare chest. Like _married_ people did. 

Naruto snorted then, loud and snuffling “Ayame-chan... it’s so...mnh...so spicy,” he mumbled, “why is it so spicy?” Spicy? This idiot got his neck torn open and he was dreaming about _food_? He groaned more, displeased and pained, “...water, Ayame-chan." 

She didn’t know who ‘Ayame’ was, or what a girl would be doing hanging around a guy like _Naruto_. He wasn’t exactly pleasant lunch company. 

“Water...’m thirsty...” he kept repeating, arm blundering out towards the end-table, his lips smacking loudly. 

This was too much. No way he wasn’t awake already! Sakura tried to ignore it, but Naruto wasn’t quitting so she took the high road – getting up to shove one of the hospital’s provided water bottles into his hands. He jerked up at the contact, blinking blearily at her, and Sakura twisted off the bottle cap roughly. 

“You’re in Konoha Hospital,” she reported like the textbooks said she should, “Condition: stable.” None of the rest really mattered here, and from Naruto’s confused face he didn’t really register what she had said, but it was more for Sasuke than Naruto anyway. She was a good teammate and she could show it, could manage Naruto even if she hated him. 

“Sakura-chan, you’re talking funny.” 

She glared at him, arms crossed, before stalking (floating - she was a composed, poised kunoichi, and she was floating) back to sit on her bed. It _had_ felt weird, reporting like that. Maybe she was doing it wrong? “We all lost our matches,” she grit out instead of throwing something at him, still stiff and professional-like. 

Naruto gulped the water messily, spilling an impossible amount down his chin. His face was turned from her and he seemed upset – he always was a sore loser. “Ah! AH!” Naruto seemed to realize something, pointing over at Sasuke, “I missed the bastard’s fight – did he lose badly? He lost, right!” 

She had just explained that. Properly, too. ‘We all lost our matches,’ this boy was seriously stupid! 

Sasuke didn’t say anything, so Sakura couldn’t either or it would sound like she was rubbing in Sasuke’s loss, so she didn’t. Naruto took that as admittance and shame, and started crowing and jeering towards Sasuke. Like Naruto had done any better! 

“Sasuke-kun lasted at least three times as long as you did,” she cut him off, “and _he_ didn’t need emergency medical treatment after.” 

Naruto’s face scrunched, “Why’s he here then, huh? He must have got hurt just as bad!” 

“He didn’t pass out! You did, and were almost killed, it’s not the same.” 

“I’m not _weak_. No way I was gonna die.” 

Sasuke tsked. “You are, and you were,” he said, the first he’d spoken since Iō-hakase had left, “Complaining doesn’t change anything, usuratonkachi.” Then he turned away again to look out the window. 

Naruto puffed up, but he didn’t have much to say to that, so he just scowled after Sasuke. His stomach growled loudly, and Sakura mutely handed over her puddings. She didn’t have much to say either, the matter-of-fact way Sasuke had said what he did just repeated in her head. 

_You are weak and you are going to die._ Plain and casual, like the _Type-4 combat casualty_ scrawled on her file. 

* * *

Kakashi said he’d come back for his brats, and either they had forgotten about that or they were placing a considerable amount of trust in his word. They hadn’t seen him for several hours now and seem to care where he’d gone. The first was intentional, the second was a little insulting. 

He needed them to stew for a while, bond a little if they could. Agonize over shared hurts, hopefully realize how out of their depths they were. Effective team bonding required at least the illusion of choice; co-operation had to be willingly gifted. It was a tiresome thing to facilitate. Kakashi normally just reserved a private room and bought his team a few dozen rounds of high-proof liquor, but for whatever reason that was not an approved form of entertainment for 12-year-olds. Not that he wanted to see a drunk Naruto, Kakashi just didn’t particularly care enjoy watching him whine about hospital chicken fingers and yellow mustard either. 

If he could, Kakashi would have gone home and brought the kid his ramen, he was so annoying. But that would have interrupted his spying, and, as a clone, Kakashi found it too risky to expend the chakra for another clone. Instead, the Kakashi-clone's eye had dutifully kept on his three genin, (except for that first little stroll to the lobby and then a detour to the vending machines. Clones didn’t strictly need to eat, but they had stomachs just the same as the original and hunger pains were not what he would want to remember when he dispelled.) 

Dinner came and went, but none of the brats seemed much interested in getting to know each other. It was up to him to ‘guide’ the interaction then. Lovely. 

A nurse came to collect their trays. As she slid the door shut on her way out, Kakashi quick pulled a visitor’s chair into a kawarimi and appeared in the room with a soft _poof_ of smoke. 

“Yo,” he called. The chair clattered softly in the air vents, but it was late evening and cool enough the A/C was barely going. 

“EH! WHO ARE YOU? WHAT WAS THAT?” shouted Naruto. 

Kakashi blinked back at the genin, who evidently had passed his graduation exams by a _miracle_ , and turned to look at his other two brats. At least they seemed quicker on the up-take. “Hatake Kakashi, your jōnin instructor. We met earlier.” 

“You never actually introduced yourself earlier,” said the pink one rather sensibly. He supposed he hadn’t, he was quite used to nobody _needing_ his name before, after all. ANBU didn’t use them, and even if they did, he was a famous enough shinobi that everybody who needed to already knew him. How long had it been since he’d last spoken his name out loud? 

“Let’s all introduce ourselves then.” 

He grabbed another visitors’ chair and sat astride it, leaning forward across the back of it. Sakura bit her lip, asking, “What are we supposed to say?” As if that didn’t say enough about her already. 

“Things you like..things you hate..dreams for the future..hobbies...” Kakashi listed with all the patience he could muster, “things like that. We’ll discuss what that means for your career as shinobi and what that means for this team.” He pulled out his notebook again, just to seem serious. He should start putting something in there if this was going to be a pattern. 

“Why don’t you tell us that stuff first, so we can see how it’s supposed to work?” 

Give the preteens a weapons manual and they can figure things out, but tell them to introduce themselves and they need a demonstration. “Well, I’ve said already my name is Kakashi. Things I like, things I hate, I’ve got plenty of both. Dreams for the future? Haven’t much thought about it. I research and craft jutsu in my spare time and I’ve been jōnin for a while, now. Next is you.” He gestured vaguely towards Naruto. 

“I’m Uzumaki Naruto! I like ramen! Cup ramen or especially the ramen Iruka-sensei treats me to at Ichiraku’s. I don’t hate the three minutes it takes for cup ramen to cook, and I don’t like whatever ‘chicken fingers’ are. My hobby is comparing different ramens. My dream is to become Hokage and make the village acknowledge me!” 

He knew it had been coming. He still had been hoping the file was wrong and he didn't have to deal with this shit. Kakashi still put on his blandest, most unimpressed tone. “You want to become Hokage?” 

“Un, I’m going to be the strongest ninja ever! That’s why I can’t give up!” He steeled his face like he expected Kakashi to tell him it was impossible and to give up. Which, well, yeah - if Naruto would have believed him, Kakashi might have.

“What do you think being Hokage entails?” He asked instead. Naruto squinted at Kakashi, a little wrong-footed. “ _Does_. What do you think a Hokage _does?”_

“That’s easy. The Hokage is the strongest ninja and the village all respect him, and he’s got his face on the mountain, you can see it super well from the Academy.” 

“And what does the Hokage _do?”_ Kakashi repeated. 

Naruto scrunched up his face even more. “He protects the village, duh. He’s got all these scrolls and books all the time, I think he reads those, and everyone comes to him with their problems and he fixes them. It’s a lot of deciding.” 

“And you think you’d be good at deciding?” Kakashi prompted. Sasuke snorted derisively. 

Naruto started to flush. “I know there’s no shortcuts! I’m going to become the best ninja and the best Hokage anyway.” 

“Aa, let’s work through this, Naruto-kun. You say you want to be the Hokage, but you don’t really know what sort of decisions the Hokage makes. How can you know if you want to make those decisions?" he pointed out, "If you just want to make decisions broadly, there’s lots of positions where you can do that, even as a chūnin. If you want to protect the village, you’re already doing that as a shinobi. If you want to fix problems, the Hokage only ever does that _through_ shinobi, so we already all take part in the solutions. If you want the village to respect you, you never needed to be a shinobi at all - it’s probably faster to get people to like you as a blacksmith than it is as a combatant - but now that you've graduated, iryō-ninjutsu is the most widely respected specialty. Why have you never expressed an interest in that?”

Kakashi tapped his book against the chair back as he said this, the controlled movement softening his otherwise too-intense stare. He had to ensure this felt like an exchange, not a reprimand or a lecture. He wouldn't respond well to imposed authority. Casual. Genuine. Like his pacing wasn’t deliberately slow to make sure Naruto was following, like he wasn’t over-pronouncing every word over two syllables. 

Naruto’s face was dark, his voice vulnerable, “Their eyes. I want them to stop looking at me like...” he muttered.

Ah. Not a good answer, but an understandable one. “Being Hokage wouldn’t make them stop. The Sandaime chooses his successor, he could give you his hat tomorrow and you’d be Hokage but do you really think people would stop looking at you like that if he did?” Naruto’s face scrunched like he was thinking of saying ‘yes’, so Kakashi pushed on, “Plenty of people hate their Kage. Kiri is in the middle of a rebellion because of it. Hundreds of people are dying or leaving their villages because they don’t trust the Mizukage. Plenty of people dislike the Sandaime, too. His appointment was very controversial, people spat on him in the streets – he’s just been around so long those people gave up, moved out, or died. Still, new people yell at him and tell him he’s doing things wrong, every week.” 

“That’s not the same, they don’t call Jiji-” Naruto cut himself off, scowling, he reached for his near empty water bottle and drained the last of it. “Jiji’s not like me.” 

“Then what makes you think you’ll be like him if you become Hokage?” 

“People always say to respect the Hokages!” Naruto shouted and threw his water bottle at the trash bin. It flew wide and landed at the foot of a very awkward Sakura’s bed. “They’re great heroes who sacrificed a whole lot for the village. They’re on a mountain.” 

“They were all admirable shinobi, but being Hokage is not what made them that way," Kakashi said in his best sensei-impression, "Hokage doesn't automatically mean hero, and not all heroes become Hokage. But back on track,” as if this hadn’t been a planned diversion, “what are you trying to specialize in?” 

Naruto stared angrily at his fallen water bottle. “Wha’dya mean?” 

Were they normally this oblivious? “One of you other two, explain.” 

“Ano,” Sakura started, and Naruto looked up at her, “There are lots of different ninja skills and not that much time, so once you’ve mastered the basics you can pick a few things to get really good at.” 

Sparce, but importantly that gave him an idea of what not to say. He wasn't really sure which things were classified to who, but if Sakura (who had near perfect scores on paper) didn't mention any job titles, that was as good a hint as any. Kakashi nodded to her. “Hand-to-hand, various weapons, elemental manipulation, illusions, tracking, poisons, puppetry, infiltration, healing, intelligence-gathering, code-breaking – these are some of the special skills shinobi have. We train the basics all our lives, but what you dedicate yourself to changes the kind of shinobi you become.” He looked seriously at each of his brats. Would they really understand what that meant? Context, most people learned from context. “The Shodai, Hashirama Senju, was famously the only Mokuton user in living memory. His expertise in that field, committing himself to be exceptional at his specialty elemental manipulation at the expense of learning other skills, made him much stronger than he would have been if he raised every skill he came across equally. All shinobi do this, we pick and choose what we want to learn so we can manipulate those things to their greatest efficiency. You don’t have to choose now, but it’s something to think about... Pinkie, you’re next.” 

Naruto looked torn between relieved Kakashi had moved on and upset he didn’t get to finish his question, but Sakura introduced herself before he got a chance to protest. “Haruno Sakura! What I like is - well, I like...ano,” she blushed and looked uncomfortable, “My hobby is ikebana, I guess. And in the future, I want to be accepted by the person I care about. I don’t really know about specialties.” Kakashi hummed agreeably and waved to the last brat. 

“My name is Uchiha Sasuke. I have a lot of dislikes, but I don’t particularly like anything." He continued to glower at his hospital sheets and speak in a tone far too deep for his tiny body, "What I have is not a dream, because I will make it a reality, but I do have an ambition.” Both Sakura and Naruto watched him carefully and a little confusedly, “My ambition is to restore my clan and, without fail, to kill a certain man.” 

Kakashi tapped his notebook along the heavy plastic of his chair again and ignored the very gloomy, broody mood. “Aa. Uchiha Itachi, right?” Sasuke’s head snapped over to watch Kakashi, the first time the boy had looked up all visit. Fledgling killing intent slowly began to fill the air. Tetchy, tetchy. Sakura, the closest to him, breathed laboriously. “I’m only asking so we can best structure your training schedule, Sasuke-kun.”

The boy glared suspiciously, but after a few seconds he nodded. Kakashi smiled, saying lightly, “So, specialty - infiltration?” 

Sasuke’s face was tight and flat, but his jaw clenched and his teeth grit. “Combat, obviously.” 

“Aa. My mistake. I thought you just wanted to avenge your clan.” 

“I will.” The killing intent was back. Kakashi held firm, eyes on eye. Sakura would have to consider this as extra-special constitution training, he supposed. ~~(~~ ~~_She’s secondary, the best available option, as it_ _were.)_ ~~

"But not _just_ or you’d take most effective option. That’s assassination. You seem to want to defeat him in single combat. So, to be clear, is your goal to eliminate Uchiha Itachi...or is it to surpass him?” 

That hit all the buttons, Kakashi knew it did, he saw it register. Saw Sasuke’s jaw slacken, eyes glaze, fingers tighten, body start to shake. He’d wondered when he started this if he would need to say the words - _do you want to ‘test your ability’, Sasuke-_ _kun_ _?_

He was glad it hadn’t come to that. Even if saying it indirectly didn’t absolve him of the implications, he could at least pretend it might. 

Naruto, unused to keeping quiet, was so full of questions they had begun to spill out of him. (What does that mean? Who’s Uchiha Itachi? Sakura-chan, are you okay?) Kakashi heard him, kept him firmly in his periphery, but he didn’t dare respond. All his physical presentation was for Sasuke, an open, nonjudgmental challenge, and all Sasuke’s attention was on Kakashi. Processing the idea. Rejecting it, certainly, but testing its truth somewhere in there, too. 

“I have to kill him.” Sasuke said slowly, “Nobody else can, nobody else is strong enough.” 

All grown up and still convinced his nii-san is the strongest shinobi in the world. Adorable. Tragic.“Itachi-san is a very skilled shinobi, but if you’re looking to kill someone specific - it’s far more to do with time, preparation, and patience than it is about skill,” Kakashi remarked. No hesitation, no fronts. “When you’ve got a dedicated target and no time limit, extended single combat is hardly ever advantageous. Catch him on the tail end of a stupider nin’s battle and assassinate him in his sleep. Pay 20 different innkeepers to dose him with a contact poison that slowly builds in his system. Rig his boat to blow halfway out to sea. Put a kunai through his heart under cover of a crowded street. There are faster, more effective ways to kill a man than an honor duel.” He felt so eerily calm, mission flat, entirely devoid of feeling. He usually didn’t mind it, but like this he could see the disquiet on Sakura’s face, the confused suspicion on Naruto’s. 

“Uchiha don’t...” Sasuke hesitated, the first words had come strong but he trailed off like none of the rest fit right. He wasn't unused to the idea of death, at least, but there went his jaw again, the clenching-unclenching of a boy so obviously unsettled, unsure, and unused to dealing with the feeling. 

Uchiha don’t what? Don’t run from a fight? Don’t take the unguarded kill-strike? Sasuke surely remembered the aftermath of the massacre - his clansmen's bodies, their weapons drawn but fallen far from where they should have been, fallen with their bloody backs up; he knew Uchiha ran and he knew Uchiha took the dishonorable shots. He grew up shinobi, the main branch of a major clan. He must have been raised on stories about assassinations, bad mission failures haunting his dreams like boogeymen. If you don’t eat your greens, your hands will develop a shake and you’ll explode half your face setting a trap one day. 

Not even Sasuke seemed to know, “It’s never worked before,” he said finally. Ah, had It been ‘Uchiha don’t die so easily?’ That fit with what he imagined of Uchiha Fugaku's parenting style.

“I’m not going to say nobody’s tried, but Sasuke-kun, if the village really needed Itachi-san dead – he'd be dead.” The edge of Sasuke’s lip curled derisively. 

Kakashi took a deep, centering breath. He hadn’t necessarily planned to continue this line of thought, but... Sasuke was surrounded by people less skilled than his clan-born expectations demanded. He might not yet think Konoha was weak, but he certainly had no confidence in her strength. Before the incident, he had constantly been surrounded by his clan’s strength. He saw jōnin-level shinobi daily and impressive jutsu were thrown around casually. That's just what clans did. After, he was surrounded by squealing little children and desk chūnin who acted nothing like Sasuke would have come to expect. He was told he was the best, but that would never be a comfort to a grieving child because if Sasuke was the best and he had failed to stop his brother than who else could possibly succeed? Sasuke had been left so unspeakably alone and in a village he didn't recognize. 

Kakashi could delay what he needed to say, but coming back to it later would seem like excuses and Sasuke would be less likely to accept them as true. If he saw the village as weak, incapable of seeking revenge or of appropriately training people for it, why would he give her his absolute loyalty? Konoha post-Uchiha held no fond memories for him, this was no longer _his_ village. No, he needed to correct this initial misunderstanding of power dynamics now, tide him over until he hit ANBU. This was a boy who would never feel seen until the world mirrored his own darkness.

“It would have taken a very, very long mission and considerable village resources to hunt a shinobi like Uchiha Itachi down. It would take operatives out of the field and nobody’s paying for his head but us. It’s not a nice or comforting truth, but - _we let him go_ , Sasuke. We tracked him through to the Land of Fangs, but he crossed the border and we had no cause to engage. Not then, not now.” 

“No... cause,” Sasuke repeated, his voice pitched just a little higher. Kakashi could hear his voice crack a bit. 

Was there a good way to say ‘enacting justice for brutally slaughtered loved ones was too expensive and we didn't feel like it’? No, probably not. “It would not have been economical; he didn’t pose further threat.” _It's not that the village couldn't, it's that they wouldn't._

Kakashi reached for the kid’s water bottle and pressed it into his hands. He didn’t drink it, but at least it gave him something to hold. Meanwhile, Sakura’s grip against Naruto’s mouth slipped when she twisted more to watch her obvious crush. 

“Who’s Itachi?” Naruto asked, much softer than he normally was. 

Kakashi didn’t look up from Sasuke. “A criminal.” 

Sakura was looking at Sasuke too, but there wasn’t the same understanding there. The girl fidgeted. “Sensei, aren’t missing-nin dangerous to the village? They have a lot of access, don’t they?” Sasuke didn’t freeze any more than he had, so Kakashi leaned back and turned to give him some semblance of privacy and a distraction. 

“Aa,” he agreed. “But we account for that. Our systems minimize the risk, operatives only ever get the bare minimum of information to complete their missions.” It was far too simple an explanation, but he’d scared the brats quite a bit already and as much as he’d like to, he couldn’t completely disillusion his brats of the village quite yet. Still, he could hint at it. He was talking about information restriction while restricting information, though he didn’t hold much hope they’d see that yet. 

“Codes change, assets move around,” Kakashi continued, “The most stable things you can run away with are techniques – village specialties, hiden, kinjutsu – but even missing-nin aren’t going to publicize how their own jutsu work and there's tight enough security on the rest that it makes escape with them improbable.” 

“Kinjutsu? Hiden?” Sakura questioned. Even Sasuke’s eyes flicked up to watch Kakashi. 

Kami, what were they teaching these kids in the Academy? “Hiden - secret techniques. You mostly know them as 'clan jutsu'. Techniques developed by an individual that are significantly different than what most people can do, normally kept within a bloodline to ensure they stay secret. The clans in turn dedicate themselves to the development and mastery of the hiden. Kinjutsu are similar, only they are forbidden to use by clan or village.” 

Naruto muttered something about ‘clan bastards’ but it didn’t really need a response so Kakashi gave it none. Otherwise, the room settled into a thoughtful, tense quiet. 

“No more questions?” Kakashi prompted, but he didn’t give them more than a few moments to think of them, “Then here’s the deal – as someone has evidently already told you, the first thing most genin teams do is take a test from their sensei. Should they fail this test, it sends them back to the academy.” Here Sakura nodded along, Sasuke narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and Naruto wiggled so hard he was almost vibrating. “Both from your matches and from this conversation, I do not think any of you are ready to be shinobi.” 

All three began to protest at various volumes. Kakashi held up his hand warningly. Sakura and Sasuke fell quiet, but Naruto continued hotly so Kakashi took a second to send a kunai whizzing past the injured side of his neck, safe by just a breath, and embedding itself in the wall behind him.

"Unfortunately for me, I never planned to give you a test. We are already a team in the eyes of the Hokage. The paperwork to change that now would be a hassle,” the paperwork to change that didn’t actually exist, but filling out nonexistent paperwork to do something which would ultimately be insubordination would be a hassle, so it counted. “Instead, I’m giving you all a week.” 

Kakashi took another deep breath and wet his lips beneath his mask. This was one loophole he’d found, the only shot he had of getting out of this, and it was tenuous at best. “You will train to my standards, do what I tell you, and endure whatever I see fit you should. Any time before the week is up, you can take these forms,” he pulled out a folded sheaf of papers from his pack, “fill them out, and turn them in to Hokage Tower. They’re petitions to leave the force, according to the precedent set by Council Verdict 4-560G3. There is no shame in realizing you would not make a good shinobi; you can still find fulfilling lives as civilians, but this is your last chance to do so. If you do not turn these in, there is no backing out from shinobi life or this team.” 

He stood then and distributed a stapled set of forms to each of the genin. He turned from handing Naruto his just to hear a loud ripping sound. 

“I won’t,” declared Naruto, “No matter what you throw at us Kakashi-sensei, this is my dream. I’m tired of everybody always saying I’m not good enough, or that I’m not going to make it. I’m Uzumaki Naruto, and I’m going to make you realize that means something!” 

Kakashi watched his outburst softly, continuing to pass out the forms. “When you need another copy, let me know.” 

* * *

Hospital-Kakashi popped after the brats had worked themselves up with enough outrage and questions that a stern iryo-nin sedated them with a strong sleep-aid genjutsu. Kakashi had been in the beginning minutes of a very angry lecture about ‘visiting hours’ and ‘disturbing the patients’ and ‘irresponsible stewardship of children’, but he didn’t stick around to hear its no-doubt thrilling conclusion. 

No, Kakashi had very pressing business instead – getting sloppy at _Alibi_ , a surprisingly nice bar just off the old Senju compound. It wasn’t strictly all-shinobi, but it didn’t cater to civilian sensibilities. It was well lit, for one. Soft, warm light filled every corner to minimize both suspicious shadows and unnecessary eyestrain. Synchronized music played softly from a dozen small speaks so no place was too loud. The bar area itself barely-tinted glass and all the drinks were made clearly within line of sight. Everything served was simple and made with fresh, identifiable, ingredients. The staff were perfectly willing to take a shot of whatever didn’t come pre-sealed. There were lockable cubbies for larger weapons and anything else, but use of them wasn’t mandatory – it just made more sense to stow anything you would get twitchy about people touching. 

There was always that one shinobi who took pleasure in riling up those they could, and otherwise.... Kakashi was old enough to understand the appeal of overly amorous civilians who wanted to try something dangerous for a night. Some civilians understood what they were asking for, but it tended to be a mixed bag and more often than not they liked to _touch._

Hence the signs and infographics just inside the door - ‘Verbal and non-verbal signals for disinterest: no means no,’ ‘Remember to go slow,’ ‘Imbalanced power dynamics are not consent: set clear boundaries,’ ‘Everyone drinks at different paces and that’s okay!’ 

Kakashi had shrugged off his still unfamiliar flak jacket and locked it in the cubby. The locks weren’t quality but that wasn’t really the point. They’d stop civilians and shinobi too drunk to identify or be trusted with their own weapons. Outright theft was unlikely to go unnoticed, dedicated equipment was just too personal and there were too many trackers in Konoha for it to be worth it. The key came out attached to a little coil band which he wore on his wrist like a bracelet. 

He didn’t make his way immediately to the back booths, though he could pinpoint the voice he was looking for there easily enough. Young, not carefree (who was) but not biting or particularly cold either. 

The bar looked out onto the floor with the ninja seated there all facing the doors. A scarred intimidation guard against the weak of heart. Mirrors above the liquor shelves gave a good view of the space behind their backs, so it was one of the better vantage points once you got over having so much open air around you. 

“Sake, Hatake-san?” asked the bartender as Kakashi sat down. Several sets of eyes turned towards him; a relatively infrequent visitor but still an infamous shinobi, it was natural people were curious – especially given he was here without obvious corralling, and thus seemingly, to socialize. 

“Whiskey sour,” he corrected. 

Two seats over from him, Inuzuka Tsume barked a laugh. “That kind of day, huh?” She knocked back a rice wine cup, filling it again and offering it to her ninken beside her. 

“Aa,” Kakashi allowed, peering down the length of the bar to see who he could, “Not feeling up to paying full price for my drinks, you know?” 

She looked at him shrewdly, then around the bar – which was far emptier than it had been yesterday. “Slow night for that.” 

“Bartender-san is sweet on me, I can tell.” 

The bartender in question snorted, luckily away from the drink he was passing over. “Not fucking likely. You find someone to pay for your drinks or you take my challenge, same as anyone.” He pointed up to a target hanging inside a rigid mesh cube, spinning slowly. It was a bit battered, corners dented in, but the crosshatching was consistent and sturdy. Only one of the sides had an opening where anything wider than a fingernail could pass through, and even that was only about two thirds the size of the whole face. Kakashi knew which direction that side faced was changed every so often, giving the ‘challenge’ different difficulties on different days. Today the open side was directly behind the target face. 

This was the alibi in _Alibi._ If an annoying family member or teammate asked you what you were doing, you could always say ‘target practice’ and come here, the walls were lined with targets of various difficulties. Though, only the caged target got you anything if you hit it – half off all the drinks you’d ordered, but the discount only applied to drinks ordered before you hit the target and there were no points for near-hits. 

“Mah, I’ll impress you soon enough, bartender-san,” Kakashi said, “I’m just waiting to get my money’s worth.” 

Below, Kuromaru huffed. “Cocky brat,” he growled, rough and mean and very much fitting with his gruff face and eyepatch. Absolutely adorable. Kakashi leaned down to stare at the wolf-dog more closely. Tsume pivoted a bit worriedly in her seat, watching him. 

“I bet my ninken can drink more than you.” 

Kuromaru seemed properly offended, and Tsume properly delighted, so it took Kakashi very minimal prompting to summon his pack and invite them all for drinks. Pakkun was adamant he could drink Kuromaru under the table no problem, but given their sizes Kakashi was a bit skeptical. Eventually the pack settled on Bull as their representative against ‘the Inuzuka scourge’ but the rest of the dogs, sans Urushi who apparently had a date, ordered liberally on Kakashi’s tab all the same. 

Bull occupied, Pakkun settled on Kakashi’s head instead – allowing his summoner the honor of bearing his liquor (ever the discerning gentleman, he insisted on aged flower wine). Guruko laid himself on the bar, after thoroughly reassuring everyone he was hypoallergenic, and struck up a conversation with some other nin about explosives components. 

The bar filled steadily. Shiba wandered off to get pet and be snuck snacks by some drunk kunoichi, but otherwise Kakashi’s ninken did an admirable job running interference for him so Kakashi never really needed interact with the growing crowd. Still, the dogs could only handle so much alcohol, though they repeatedly reassured Kakashi they were enjoying themselves. Both Kuromaru and Bull started to flag after about an hour. Tsume cut Kuromaru off when he transformed into her, crawling along the floors to give scratches to the rest of the dogs with his newly human hands. 

Kakashi’s ninken decided to head home not long after, but first Pakkun agreed to help in his way to pay for the pack. Bartender-san rang a bell and the bar hushed a bit, clearing out from the direct ricochet zone around the netted target. Kakashi was handed a fresh kunai for his task and, putting a bit of a theatrical shake in his hands and bracing himself a bit, lobbed the knife up and gently into the cage. 

The crowd sighed and jeered at his throw, not hard enough to pierce anything even if he had a clear trajectory, but then all at once the light shifted, several shinobi sneezed violently, and the kunai was stuck right in the middle of the target, in to the hilt. 

He evaded the clasping hands trying to pat him on the back as the jeers turned to shouts and then applause. “Nee, bartender-san, I’ve got to get more than half-off for a perfect bulls-eye, right?” Kakashi scratched Pakkun behind the ears in thanks and the little pug saluted wobbly and reverse summoned himself. 

“Kai!” Called the bartender, scowling, but there was nothing to dispel. A few other nin did the same, with the same results. He scowled harder over at Kakashi. “I’m not discounting you more than half, no matter how impressive you are, Hatake.” 

Someone in the crowd waved a few coins and shoved through to place them on the bar. For Kakashi’s tab, they told the bartender, and for a good show, they told Kakashi. A few others murmured agreement and soon enough Kakashi only had to pay about a fifth of what he should have owed. Tsume did manage to clap him on the shoulder before she dragged Kuromaru off home for good. She gave him a good, friendly Inuzuka shake-around for his throw. 

“Aa, I know what I’m doing sometimes,” Kakashi replied flippantly, a bit tipsier than he cared to admit. Tsume barked another laugh and bade him farewell. 

Kakashi braced himself on the table for a good minute, collecting himself, and then made through the back tables for the restrooms. On his way back an arm caught his sleeve. 

“Hatake-senpai,” a soft voice said, and Kakashi turned and inclined his head in greeting. 

“Umino-san. How are you?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So do you agree with my take on how Sakura viewed the Naruto/Sasuke Lunch incident? It makes a lot of sense to me, tbh, and if you believe this it explains a lot of her continued affections for Sasuke. It's extraordinarily shitty of Naruto to have done the whole substitution/playing with her feelings thing. 
> 
> Also - before anyone asks, no this is NOT Iruka/Kakashi. I have some very unpopular opinions about Iruka. Maybe we'll see them next chapter, maybe not. But we will see them (and tbh Kakashi is half a self-insert in this whoop, so he'll share at least some of my opinion on the matter.) 
> 
> Please comment! I'd love your opinions on either of the topics above, or anything else you'd like to share. I am a comment monster, it's like a cookie monster - but comments. They just make me feel warm and nice inside plz donate to my cause. If there's anything I can respond to in the comment, I will, but I'm not trying to obligate anyone to keep a conversation w me, lol. I'm just excitable.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory library scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back over some of the earlier chapters and - oh boy, I fixed a few big typos from chapter two. Chapter TWO. I'm dying of embarrassment, sorry about that.  
> I reworded some of the stuff in Chapter 5 pt. 2 because I realized one of the things I was implying didn’t come across very well. If you read it before October, it’s prob a little different. 
> 
> TBH I’m very worried this fic is venturing into character bashing territory. I’m trying to be very fair and not show anyone as a ’good’ or ’bad’ character, but god I just hate Iruka SO MUCH and little Naruto is a fucking idiot so I dunno if I’m letting that bias shine through too much. I held myself back and didn't roast Iruka too hard though (imo). I am pacing myself.
> 
> (Edit: Someone in the comments pointed out I don't deal with Iruka like I dealt with Sakura in the last chapter. This is very true. Unlike with Sakura, I'm not trying to point out why Iruka does things or contextualize him. I just don't like him as a character and this AN was about my worry that I dislike him too much to even give him a chance as a well-rounded character. Reasons I don't like him are partially explained in response to that comment.)

“Ah, I’m fi-, well, I’m a little concerned to see you here, honestly,” said Iruka, staggering up from the table, otherwise filled with what looked to be academy instructors.

Iruka seemed relaxed and responsive to everything around him – pupils dilated, everything from the loll of his head to the shifting of his feet more mobile than one could expect from any ninja, hands flexing like he was enjoying even the experience of his palm on the wooden divider of the booth. He had a soft flush to his face and watched Kakashi nervously. 

By all accounts he was genuinely drunk. Kakashi let his head cock to the side, mirroring Iruka's stance and giving out a sort of vague, questioning prompt. Iruka flapped his hand across the booth for his friends to scooch in and poured Kakashi a full stein from a pitcher of whatever house beer they were drinking.

“The Sandaime showed me, you know,” Iruka said, flopping back onto the bench. 

Kakashi sat, twisting the motion so he kept a good view of Iruka’s face as the man turned to introduce everyone at the table. Even intoxicated, the man didn’t seem smug about his connection with the Hokage or any more antagonistic towards Kakashi than the average shinobi. Still, he was stiff.

He didn’t like Kakashi. (The idea of Kakashi, his therapist would want him to correct. Iruka didn’t know him, the most he could dislike was the idea of him.) Kakashi took a deep draw of beer through his mask. The mug pitched back higher and higher to the mixed (dis)approval of the table, leaving Iruka awkward and forcing him to keep explaining to the table. 

“Ah, Hatake-san was the jōnin assigned _that_ team,” he said, rubbing his neck and smiling placatingly at a woman further along the table - who had leaned forward and plucked her glasses from where they were hung on her collar, checking out Kakashi through just one of the lenses like he was a bug and she an Aburame with a magnifying glass. Iruka flushed even harder, “I’m worried about my students, _my students_ , Suzume.” 

Kakashi put down his mug with a _thunk_. Iruka looked back at him like he’d half-forgotten the other shinobi was there. He set upon Kakashi again with what he must have thought was an intimidating look. “Look, I care a lot about Naruto, he’s a sweet kid underneath it all and it’s unfair for you to test them when you’re not serious about passing a team.” 

Kakashi's mask hid his grimace. He let the drink settle something rough into his throat and stretched his out considerable height lazily, allowing himself at least the appearance of annoyance even if he banished the feeling from his mind. The other nin at the table shifted nervously, shut in on either side by the growing tension between himself and their friend. 

“Instructors are encouraged to test their prospective teams,” Kakashi reminded him. 

“But you’ve never passed a single person,” accused Iruka, “Not a team, not an apprentice, and you’ve not put even a good word in any of their files. I didn’t want to just believe the rumors, but I’ve seen it now.” 

Was that what the Hokage had shown him, Kakashi’s testing notes? It wasn’t really confidential information, he doubted it needed high clearance to access – it certainly didn’t need to be handled directly by the Hokage. The Academy would have at least partial files on all their graduated genin, regardless. Failing a few teams wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“I was offered genin,” Kakashi said, though his mind was more working through why the Hokage was wasting his time on Academy chūnin than getting through this posturing exposition, “I didn’t want them, so I sent them back. That’s how it works.” 

“It’s an _honor_ to mentor Konoha’s youth.” 

Iruka sounded so sincere it was ridiculous and Kakashi had to hold in a disbelieving laugh. “Sure. And it’s an honor to serve my village. It’s an honor to have made jōnin. It’s an honor to take the missions I do. It’s an honor-” here he lifted a lazy hand to wave at the room around him, “to drink in this fine establishment tonight. I’m really not lacking in honors, Umino.” 

The kid took a second to puff himself up in full, earnest, indignation. Had he taken Kakashi’s flippancy as an insult? Good. To be chūnin and yet so deluded was genuinely sad. And not just pitiful (though it was that), but the kind of deep, relatable sorrow that stopped the people around him from correcting him. 

Which of Iruka’s people had died such a useless death that the only thing left of them to remember was honor? It must have been when he was young, or he would not cling to it so strongly. He must see that weakness in himself, or he would not be so loud or carried it so long. 

“Then, you’re going to fail them?” It wasn’t Iruka, but rather the large man with a twitch in his fingers sitting beside him. Elevated heart rate. His body was more still than it had been all evening. “There’s just a, well you know, we have a betting pool going.” Tactless – perhaps deliberate, meant to diffuse the situation. 

No. The man looked over at the table-mates, checking for reactions. Several of them seemed bemused. Fond. Annoyed. It varied. Suzume, the kunoichi with the glasses hid her scowl behind the lift of her beer. “Oh?” Kakashi said, “Who’s bookie? It’s always fun to see my odds.” 

She was smiling beatifically when her mug came down. “It’s all personal bets around here, but I’m sure Intelligence has something complicated running. They’re always happy to take advantage of other nin.” The big guy smiled back placidly at Suzume. His twitch gone as he gripped one hand in the fabric of his pant leg, the other tight around his own beer. A gambling habit, much less interesting or relevant than Kakashi had hoped. He hummed casually and turned his considerations back away from the red herring. 

“Aa. Best hurry if you’re trying to take advantage back, then. I registered Team 7 earlier today, but they might not have processed the paperwork yet.” 

Iruka squinted at him like he could read his chakra flairs for a lie (it wasn’t in his file, so it probably wasn’t that). “Seriously?” Kakashi shrugged. 

And then half the table started to shuffle around, shoving at Iruka, correctly thinking better of shoving at Kakashi. Iruka tried to protest but the big guy lifted him up by the ribcage and relocated him away from the booth. Another, slinkier, nin who’d been on Kakashi’s side opted to crawled out through the table-legs. 

“You owe me another round,” Kakashi called to the departing nins’ backs, but it was halfhearted and not near loud enough to be heard over their fighting as to who got to go to which bet-taker and other such dibs. He turned back to the remaining half of the table to commiserate, “They owe us another round.” 

They laughed. Of course they did, Kakashi had designed it to. An easy humor which opened people up, dry and distant enough to remind them he was not, and would never be, their friend. A willingness to enable certain vices, giving the impression they could speak freely and that Kakashi would keep their confidence, but carefully managed so Kakashi never seemed vulnerable to those vices. Nice to see this was still so easy. 

One of the remaining men leaned forward to top up Kakashi’s beer, which he accepted with a nod and a soft toast. “You think _that_ team has potential, then.” He said it with a grimace the table, even Iruka to some extent, echoed. 

“Not really,” Kakashi admitted, “but the council will just keep pushing teams on me until I take one. As far as brats go, the Uchiha is decent. Once I get one of the other two up to par, well – two chūnin dissolve a team unless specifically requested otherwise.” None of that was technically a lie, he was just omitting the inconvenient fact that an S-ranked mission from the Hokage counted as specific request otherwise. “I’ll take the good odds while they’re here.” 

Iruka sputtered and suddenly he was back at odds with Kakashi _._ “Thats - they’re not ready for chūnin! Are you seriously going to just puff them up and send them out like that? Send two of them out before they’re ready and leave the third for dust? You’re condemning them to die!” Kakashi didn’t flinch at the accusation, he let the cold feeling wash over him. He was used to it, he’d fall apart later. “It takes hard work to make chūnin. Years of it, it’s not so simple.” 

He kindly didn’t point out that _he’d_ been made chūnin at 6, a year after graduating the Academy. It wouldn’t make sense to these people.

Iruka took 5 years to make chūnin and then more than 5 years later again, here he was, with a string of mission failures and nowhere near even a tokubetsu jōnin promotion. He hadn’t even completed the skill certification to teach at the academy on his own merit. Another applicant had deflected kunai for him, an inch before they made contact with his eye. Where did he get the confidence to say such things? 

“It certainly can take time to find one's path and aptitudes,” Kakashi said diplomatically, “but then, how fortunate am I to have a table full of my students’ former teachers who might be able to advise me on what they think those paths might be? After a few more drinks, of course.” Iruka didn’t seem appeased. 

“Wait," the one who’d poured Kakashi’s most recent beer looked at him doubtfully, “did you track us to this bar?” 

Yes. 

“I hardly need an ulterior motive to drink. But I am shameless enough to take advantage of opportunities when they come my way, and my dogs smelled the pups on you as soon as they came in.” 

This seemed a realistic sort of strange shinobi happenings, and of course everyone at the table was sure to have seen his dogs wandering around even if they didn’t know who summoned them. And a jōnin was asking. There was a certain clout to that, the possibility of getting in an elite shinobi’s good graces. So Suzume ignored her co-worker's growing temper and shrugged. “Gossiping about our former students is practically what we came here to do, anyway. Where do you want to start?” 

“Who’s going to give me the most trouble?” The others all gave Iruka a telling look, but didn’t say the name. “Aa, Uzumaki? You were defending him before.” 

“He _is_ sweet,” Iruka maintained sourly, but Suzume gave him a sort of ‘come on now’ look and he relented. “He’s single-minded, though. Goes haywire when you leave him alone for longer than a minute. Doesn’t listen to much.” 

And then the dam broke, like Iruka’s determination to speak well of his student was the only thing holding the others back. 

“He has no regard for classroom rules, walked right out in the middle of lecture-” 

“Broke every instrument I tried him on-” 

“Dumped paint all over Benji-kun, I was hearing from his mother for weeks-” 

“And he disrupts every lesson like he can’t understand he’s not the only one around-” 

“Terrible infiltrator-” 

“Asked me what was so great about the Yondaime, the _Yondaime_ , come on-” 

“He skipped class to loot dead bodies-” 

“The Taki incident, wasn’t it - didn’t you get laid up trying to save him, Iruka?” 

His anger towards Kakashi had evidently been set aside to make room for a weird indignant dismay on Naruto’s behalf. “I - yeah,” he admitted, “but there were active hostiles, that wasn’t Naruto’s fault.” 

“Nobody forced him to ignore a public safety bulletin.” 

“Nobody forced _me_ to go in after him.” 

Kakashi hadn’t been around for this incident, but he knew enough about it. A foreign operative had stolen intel, been cut down in the hills just outside Konoha’s walls, and the village had closed down the area for obvious reasons. The next morning an Academy brat wandered in and was jumped by Taki reinforcements, surviving only because his instructor had ditched class to corral his truant student. 

It had been ridiculous; an international clusterfuck. Half of Team Se was sent back in for reconditioning after being determined ‘lax of duty’ for letting the situation get out of control. Understandable, perhaps, but excessive. (Lemur had been covering her ass because the number of non-combatants that eventually had gotten involved forced a declassification of the entire operation and put some trade agreement in jeopardy.) Iruka should have sent professionals in the first place instead of going and almost getting himself killed. 

“You should have just told ANBU,” said one of the instructors, echoing the thought. “They’re like, right next door. Those bastards are _fast_ , too.” 

Kakashi was quietly pleased. ANBU _were_ quite fast, and he was one of the faster ones (the fastest, but they didn’t exactly hold races so it wasn’t proper to say), which made the disgruntled agreement of the table a compliment. It was made so much sweeter because it wasn’t consciously given, and even more so that it was meant as a curse rather than flattery. 

You couldn’t trust what anyone said to your face, after all. They always wanted something from you. It was far better to know what someone was saying behind your back. People were defined by the compliments of their enemies and the insults of their closest friends. 

(Somewhere, Kakashi’s therapist was surely drinking even more heavily than he was.) 

Iruka rubbed at his neck embarrassedly, “Maybe so,” he said. “and that’s a lesson learned with 15 stitches and more than a few broken bones. I don’t regret it, though. I’m glad Naruto is safe.” 

At the expense of everyone around him. Iruka could choose whatever he wanted for himself, but he had no right to make such choices for other people. 

Fly had walked out of reconditioning shattered. His only mistake had been worrying over his sick wife and young son, being just slightly too distracted to notice an Academy student’s weak chakra signature. But Lemur had demanded results and an assurance that he would never make the same mistake again, so the conditioning team had put Fly under genjutsu and forced him to murder his own family. Again, and again, and again. 

And when the genjutsu finally ended and Fly was exhausted and delirious, only just coherent enough to recognize himself as no longer in the genjutsu, they’d brought in a civilian woman made to look like his wife and had him kill her too. When he woke up, he’d believed he’d really done it. They let him believe it for months, switching him to the more gruesome combat missions to capitalize on his growing disregard for everything around him, until they finally told him it hadn’t been her. 

He hadn’t thought it possible and even after seeing his wife again, pregnant now with his second child, the time and missions had changed him too deeply for him to maintain the person, husband, father he had been. 

ANBU knew what their job was. They consented to the terrors, the darkness. Kakashi couldn’t blame Iruka for Fly’s circumstances, it was the village who had done what they’d done, but Kakashi blamed Iruka for his ignorance. How he didn’t seem to consider there were people outside of his line of sight to think of. 

Those who broke the rules were scum. (Those who abandoned their friends were worse than scum – true, but this did not excuse stupidity. Choosing to charge in recklessly just made you a bad shinobi.) Kakashi knew the necessity of bending rules sometimes - to save a life, to ensure mission success - but this was leniency he had earned. It was a responsibility more than anything else because to take liberties with the rules one first had to understand everything about them and be ready to shoulder the consequences of one's actions.

But that might have just been the drink in his throat. “Maa, the brats,” Kakashi reminded the table, “We were talking about the brats.” 

* * *

“Yatta!” Naruto shouted, standing spread against the Hospital’s entry and drinking in what he could of the early Konoha morning. “We’re free!” 

Sasuke paid him no attention, shoving past him and down the steps. Just behind trudged Sakura, bleary-eyed and sniffing at her hospital-washed dress delicately. “First thing is a shower,” she muttered to herself. 

In what he suspected would end up a pattern, Kakashi shunshined towards his brats to crush Sakura’s dreams. He appeared in suddenly in a friendly swirl of leaves, but the brats didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture as they startled and blinked up owlishly at him. He blinked owlishly back and gave his customary head tilt. 

“Yo,” he said. 

The brats had learned to expect this at some level, which was sort of disappointing, because even Naruto adjusted well to his sudden appearance. He inspected Kakashi suspiciously before declaring, “Well, what’s our grand test starting with, huh? You won’t scare me off – not even if I have to fight off 100 stuck-up, creepy eyed bastards, or if I have to run 1,000 punishment laps, or anything!” 

The kid didn’t quit, which was...begrudgingly admirable. Stupid, dangerous, it set off all sorts of anxieties Kakashi would rather not deal with, but that was the sort of attitude you couldn’t just train into someone. It was a rarity. If only he could transplant that into a more competent body. That was the attitude that god Obito killed. It was rare because people with it either led their teams to their deaths or it was beaten out of them. 

“You so quickly forget the pain of your wounds, Naruto-kun,” Kakashi found himself saying, almost absent-mindedly against the sudden darkness of his thoughts. Naruto look confused at the adage, but Kakashi pushed on as if he hadn’t said it. “We’re at the library, today.” Naruto’s face fell comically. Kakashi turned and beckoned them on down the road, “Come on, ducklings. Follow me.” 

* * *

He led them to a table tucked away in the self-help section, a relatively abandoned area where their inevitable noisiness would be less of a disturbance. He’d avoided most of his team’s questions on the way here, and he avoided them now – just pulling out a folder full of more prepared papers that his genin eyed suspiciously. 

Well, preparation was something of a specialty of his. 

“Research questions,” Kakashi explained as he set the folder on the table, “I’ll collect your notes on them around 1100 hours and we’ll go from there.” 

It was Sasuke who picked up the folder first, paging through the duplicate copies of the questions before taking one, a few sheets of note-paper, and a pen before passing it along to Sakura – reaching across Naruto entirely to do so. Cute. Naruto didn’t seem to even pay attention to the folder. Not cute. 

“What’s this supposed to be, huh? You act like this is some intense training, but you give us stupid Academy assignments‽” 

How had Sensei’s son ended up like this? Even Kushina, loud and active as she was, had devoured whatever scrolls she could get her hands on. “You’re free not to do them. Just remember that if you don’t, or if you aren’t planning to give it your all, you’d be ignoring direct orders from your commanding officer and I’ll expect your resignation promptly.” Kakashi smiled down at his scowling little brat, “I included another copy of the forms just for you Naruto-kun.” 

And then Kakashi stepped back, sinking himself and his senses into the Hiding-In-Stones Technique. He pulled out his own book and settled to wait. 

Sasuke was already off with his questions, momentarily thrown by the library’s decimal system but adapting as fast as could be expected. Sakura was slower, by the time she looked up and around for Sasuke he was already gone. She looked disappointed, but quick enough sat down with the questions and started reading through them thoughtfully. Naruto was left with no one to feed his upset against and he snatched his own set of questions with an annoyed noise. He sat down heavily next to Sakura, who leaned away from him, and held the paper an inch from his face. He glared as he read. 

“Awsul-what-a-what? These aren’t even real words.” 

“Oscillations,” Sakura corrected, her sheet already halfway marked up, “A repeated change in something. We are going to need a dictionary, though. Lots of reference books. Like, lots of them.” She stopped suddenly, stared distractedly at the wall in front of her, blinked. She jerked up from her chair, pushing Naruto out of the way. 

“Eh? Sakura-chan, what gives?” 

“Reference books. They only keep a few of each,” Sakura was muttering, “If I have them all, Sasuke-kun will have to come find me and we can study together. Get off me, I have to get them before he does!” Then she was off running and Naruto was alone at the table. 

“...What’s a reference book?” Naruto wondered, looking back down at his paper shrewdly. He crossed his arms and hunched over the text again. 

Kakashi slid himself through the stone of the flooring, tracking the other pups while Naruto did whatever it was he was did. 

Sasuke had found a bulky computer terminal and was busy plugging in search terms to the library catalog. He hid his confusion well, but the way he poked each key with a single, stiff index finger, stopping between each stroke to verify the character had shown up on the screen, made it clear he was not used such systems. He accidentally right-clicked open a menu and very seriously read each of its options and sub-menus before clicking away. 

Which made Sakura the one likelier to find her books she faster. She didn’t have an Uchiha’s pride and had gone directly to enlist the help of a librarian. Kakashi materialized behind one of the bookshelves so he could properly view the show. 

“The shinobi sections are right through here,” the man was saying, indicating a curtained area behind the main desk, “If you’ve got the code for it, there door along the far right will lead you through to the fancier stuff.” He considered Sakura, how short and pink she was. “Do you? Have a code, I mean.” 

She checked her questions sheet, flipping it over like she wouldn’t have noticed something written there. Her brow furrowed and she looked up at the librarian again, “I’m a genin, ano, so...?” 

“Probably not, then,” he agreed, “I can’t really tell, mind, but I think the people with passcodes are those choo-nen.” 

He didn’t offer anything else, so Sakura ducked her way under the latched plank of wood acting as counter/gate and peeked through the curtain. It was empty, Kakashi couldn’t detect any chakra signatures, but there was one or two in the next room over. Once she was through, Kakashi jumped the counter and slid in behind her. The librarian didn’t notice, only looking over several seconds later when the curtain continued to sway for longer than it should have. 

It was a small room with little to hide behind, many of the bookshelves having been traded out for racks of scrolls. Still, Kakashi slipped into the shadows easily enough. 

Sakura picked an area and started pulling books and scrolls, but most of them were returned within seconds. Different topographical maps, illustrated guides on regional weapons differences, various accounts of political intrigue. Interesting, necessary things – but not what she was looking for. She almost missed the first of the jutsu, a narrow section just off linguistics. 

Kakashi watched her go through it, watched her frown and shift the scroll underneath her arm so she could better scrutinize the page of questions he’d given her and then shift around the area where the scrolls had been. She even knocked along the wood like she thought there might be a secret compartment somewhere. There wasn’t. 

A chakra signature approached from beyond the sealed door and Kakashi hid himself a little deeper, suppressed his chakra a little more. The door popped open with a click, purposefully un-silent but still quiet. It as commendable that Sakura caught it, genin sometimes didn’t - too trusting of their surroundings while they concentrated. 

The girl that came out was an older teenager, hair a short bob, standard uniform, her headband strapped to her left arm. Chūnin, since Kakashi didn’t recognize her. She was pretty and looked friendly, so of course he should have expected it when Sakura called out. 

“Senpai! Excuse me, ano, senpai – could you help me a second?” 

The kunoichi had more than a few scrolls with her and Kakashi sent his silent sympathies. Shinobi had shit to do, nobody really needed to be accosted by Academy barely-graduates when they were prepping for a mission, but it was hard to look at the little brats and tell them to fuck off. They were tiny, weak little children, and when you looked at them you asked yourself if you had ever been that tiny or weak. 

(Kakashi hadn’t been, he’d been 4 years Sakura’s junior when he made jōnin. He might have been tinier than he cared to think about, but he’d never been weak.)

(He couldn’t have been.)

(Right?) 

“Only a second,” the kunoichi snapped, but it was probably meant to be more brisk than it was. 

Sakura nodded sensibly. “Where’s the section on chakra theory?” 

“Kid, where’s your sensei?” 

“He’s coming back at 11. We’re supposed to read until then.” 

“Well, I’d ask him to teach you about that sort of thing.” And then the kunoichi checked the clock on the wall and hurried on past the confused genin and hidden sensei. 

Sakura only seemed a little deterred, turning back to collect one of the scrolls she’d previously put back. 

* * *

Sakura’s collection of scrolls and books was...not what she had hoped it would be. She trudged back to the self-help section (haha, Sensei - very funny,) with her armful of them and dumped them right on the table. Sasuke looked up from some textbook with bubbles on the cover. 

“Where did you get those?” he asked, and Sakura was quick to explain the librarian and the curtained shinobi section and how she had grabbed everything that looked useful. He gave his cute little _hn_ noise, but he didn’t turn away as fast as he usually did and he immediately reached over to look though one of the scrolls. 

Shannaro! Sakura scores! Kick-ass teammate and beautiful, smart, useful kunoichi _._

She pulled a chair around from Naruto’s side so she could sit next to Sasuke and share the scrolls she’d brought. Sasuke had piled up books on the other chair along his side, which was fair because _Naruto,_ so in this position she had good access both to her references for ninjutsu and Sasuke’s books on physics. Naruto’s contribution was nothing, of course. He had leeched one of Sasuke’s books but he was just flipping through random pages, still trying to decipher the questions. 

She looked up at Sasuke’s papers, neatly divided in three stages across different pages. What looked to be miscellaneous text notes, then compiled by subject matter, then by question answer. There was so much more writing than Sakura would have thought possible, all quick and neat and Sasuke barely had to look down at his pen while he wrote it all. She felt herself falling in love a little more. 

It also made her realize how much harder she had to work. In the time Sasuke had gotten all his books and written this much out, all she’d done was wonder around the library getting told off by higher ranked kunoichi. 

“This was all you found?” Sakura was cracking open one of the physics books, _Electromagnetism and its Effects on the Environment,_ when Sasuke asked. 

“On chakra theory, yes,” she said, “There’s not much on ninjutsu at all. Maybe, ano, a few more things on stuff like henges? Then a lot more copies of Academy textbooks.” 

He didn’t respond, so Sakura went back to her reading. Surprisingly, Naruto was pretty quiet and diligent. At least more than she expected, he still groaned over the words he didn’t understand and occasionally threw a bit of a fit when he didn’t understand something – but this was generally when Sakura had been getting tired too, so his distractions were sort of tension relieving. 

Sasuke did end up going to look for the shinobi section. He only came back with the one or two scrolls she had seen but didn’t have room for, before. It was sort of comforting that she hadn’t missed anything, but it was weird, too. There was no way she could answer _‘Describe the connection between Yin/Yang techniques and the body’s internal Yin/Yang energies’_ with the information she had here. 

Was it a trick question? The body’s internal chakra powered the techniques of the same type. That made sense. Except – none of the texts actually explained how that happened, or explicitly said that was true. None of the texts actually explained much more than Sakura already knew at all. Even the jutsu scrolls she’d found, little things like fire starting or temporary paralysis jutsu, didn’t list anything more than their handsigns and intended outcome It was hard to actually answer any of the questions the paper asked about the _how._

So, it was slow going. She barely noticed it was nearing 11 until suddenly there was a presence against her back and three bentos sat on the table before them. 

“Yo,” called their sensei in that annoying, annoying way she was starting to hate. He snatched her paper from the table, then the others, and slid into a seat next to Naruto. 

She knew that sometimes in fights people said or did unnerving things to throw their opponents off guard – mind games, as kaa-san called them. Sakura wondered if that’s what Hatake-san was doing by never giving them much information at all, and if that is what he was doing, she wondered if he realized he was doing it. Ino had said some jōnin got a little funny after a while, that was why her cousin Isano had been so scary when Sakura had met her those years ago. 

“This was stupid,” Naruto said to their sensei, “We’re ninja and you should give us real ninja stuff to do.” 

He looked at Naruto in that same funny way, though he hid it much better than Isano had. “Noted,” he drawled out. He flipped through their sheets. “Any questions thus far?” 

It was Naruto again who responded, always so thoughtless and therefore the quickest to speak, “Yeah, why are we doing this anyway, huh? You know the answers, why do we gotta do all this stuff when you can just tell us?” 

That was...actually a good question. It was rude, the kind of question that made teachers angry and so Sakura would never ask it, but she was more than curious and Hatake-san didn’t seem to be getting angry. He picked up one of the books, an older Academy text Sakura had picked just in case it was different than the one she'd memorized, and flipped it to the chakra section so they could all see. 

“It’s conditioning. You increase your available Yang chakra by tempering your body – endurance, strength, speed – and you increase Yin by tempering your mind. That’s age and experience, primarily. But studying is the best substitute so we can prevent, say, a massive Yang overbalance within your system.” He looked at Naruto like it should mean something to him. 

“Yin is formed by and in turn forms intelligence,” he continued, “But it has to be true intelligence, the total capacity of the mind. If I forced you to memorize some handbook full of facts, you wouldn’t exercise your minds at all because although you had knowledge, you would not understand how that knowledge came to be. Were you to forget what you learned, you’d be just the same as before.” He studied Naruto closer, who really wasn’t getting it, “Why does the Academy make you run obstacle courses when the teachers can just carry you to the finish line? Because your body needs to learn how to run and dodge and _move_. That’s what we’re doing with your brain.” 

He waited a long second to make sure Naruto was processing what he’d said and then turned back to Sakura and Sasuke, waiting. 

“Ano,” Sakura found herself saying, “So how little information there is here...” she trailed off even as she said it, because it felt stupid. This was a library; it wasn’t that there was no information and it was ridiculous to think that he had somehow removed all the helpful books - jōnin or not. She probably just hadn’t figured out what she was supposed to. 

“There’s two lessons there,” Hatake-san said anyway, “The first is just as I said. You need to create understanding. You struggle in order to grow. While walking your mind through the correct way to come to a certain conclusion can and will help you, coming to that same conclusion yourself also teaches you the patterns of thought that failed to give you results. How not to think is often more important. Future situations rarely have the same solution, but they often have similar pitfalls. The second lesson is on the nature of the shinobi world.” 

He shifted through their answer sheets then, handing Sakura Sasuke’s paper, Naruto Sakura’s, and Sasuke Naruto’s. Sakura peered down at the answers on the sheet in front of her, all considerably more complete than what she’d written on hers. He wrote about how something could be applied in a combat situation for almost everything, and he wrote it better than some of the books.

It was...weird, what he wrote was so much _more._ How had he done that? (He was awesome, that was how.) 

Sensei switched the papers again. Naruto’s paper was about what she had expected. “Sasuke-kun,” Hatake-sensei called, “Where did you learn how chakra density changes a technique, and how did you know chakra nature interacts chakra compression?” These words were strange and slipped through Sakura's mind before she could really grab them.

Sasuke frowned at the other man. “...I just do.” The other man nodded, as if this was somehow a correct answer. 

“You grew up in a clan. You just have access to things other people don’t. See, information is precious to shinobi. It’s dangerous, we hoard it. People who have it don’t give it away easily. If you publish information or jutsu, people will use it. They will expect it to be used against them, they will develop counters to it. Who, then, will publish information which would increase the likelihood they and their families die in battle? Who would fill up a public library? 

“The system of shinobi is designed to conserve information. This is why we place so much emphasis on clans, who have kept their knowledge for longer than any of the villages have been founded and keep most of it only for themselves. That’s also why we place so much emphasis on mentorships and first sensei. Who teaches who – it’s a direct and unique line of information and techniques. It is sacred. The student is dependent on their sensei for their life, for their career, for their _understanding_ of the world. The sensei is dependent on their student to keep their secrets, and yet to continue their legacy. The way my sensei understood jutsu lives on only in me, it is the most intimate thing I own, and if I deem you worthy you will carry this on in yourselves.” 

Sakura had never heard Iruka-sensei speak like this. She couldn’t imagine him like this. There was something dark and serious and _heavyheavyheavy_ to the way Hatake spoke, the sparks like static across her skin sending shivers everywhere, the press of intent like he meant what he said. 

He’d said ‘sacred’, and Sakura wouldn’t have really known what that meant yesterday – Tou-san said it sometimes when he prayed but Kaa-san didn’t pray at all and Sakura didn’t really get it either – but today she had a feeling like ‘sacred’ was this deep pull behind your stomach that left your mouth dry and heart beating fast. Like fear, like dread, like anticipation, but also like none of those things. It was so much more. It did make her scared too, like there were so many expectations she wasn’t ready for. She wanted it though. It made sense, the secret belongings everyone around her always had. She wanted that, she wanted that so badly. 

“My clan is gone,” said Sasuke. Sakura had trouble placing why he said that, where it fit, but Hatake-san hummed like he knew. 

“Does it bother you to think you’ve only gotten so far because you have the privilege of your clan’s knowledge? You might not have realized it, but then, there could be a lot you haven’t realized.” Hatake-san collected all the papers back then, “I wouldn’t worry about it, it only means that they’re still with you, hm?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is cut off short, sorry. The library scene is meant to be much longer, and it will be, but I didn't want to delay posting for too much longer. 
> 
> Please comment! Reading whatever thoughts you might have and replying back is a thing I love doing more than words can express. Am sleepsies now because I was up all night so plz lmk if I fucked something up, lol.


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